Daphne Greengrass and the 7th Year From Hell
by WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot
Summary: The trio's gone. Death Eaters are running Hogwarts. Ginny's finding her own way and Daphne's trying not lose hers. A story about friendship, the power of love and family. Tracks DH. Romance, Dumbledore's Army, and Weasleys galore! HPGW and MCDG. CH. 44 UP
1. Prologue

**Author's Note of Unusual Size:**

Here is the sequel to my multi-chaptered AU** __****Daphne Greengrass and the 6**_**th**__** Year From Hell**_. Just as that story tracked** __****Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince**, this story will track** __****Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows**, focusing on what happens with the Weasleys and with the students at Hogwarts.

This story is an AU because 1.) the main character is a Slytherin who has befriended the trio in my other work, and 2.) Ron and Hermione got together in that story as well — even though they're "_on a break!_" right now.

This prologue will catch up any newcomers with the happenings in the in their sixth year in order to enjoy this story. I will be referencing my earlier work as this current story progresses. But definitely feel free to check out the prequel, and my profile, for further information about my work.

Thanks goes out to stella8h8chang for her valuable comments and respitechristopher for double-checking this final draft after _a lot _of substantial changes to the original draft. You both rock!

I own nothing. Rated T for strong language. FYI--Ginny's handwriting is in pure italics, and her thoughts are italicized and in parentheses.

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**Prologue, taking place in the Gryffindor fifth year girls' dormitory, before Dumbledore's funeral.**

Ginny Weasley had just packed away all of her schoolbooks into her trunk. As she was assessing her progress, she noticed a hard-covered book that rested, unopened, in her trunk.

(_Oh?_)

(Oh_!_)

(_Cosima's present_.)

Ginny stood still. A couple of times, her arm jerked out, as if she wanted to pick it up, but she stopped herself.

She was glad no one was in the room to see her; they'd probably think she was having a fit.

Ginny stared at the diary.

(_I never had the heart to tell Cosi that I'd probably never use it._)

Ginny picked up the book. There were only two words on the cover, in gold, and written with a fancy cursive—

_My Diary_.

Ginny looked at the thing, turning it over and back again.

It wasn't like she had ever publicized the events of her first year to any of the girls that shared her dormitory. So when Cosima Ramsay had surprised her with a Muggle diary for a Christmas present — "I know your father loves Muggle things, so I thought you'd get a kick out of this," Cosima had said at the time — Ginny accepted it with a gracious smile, and placed it on her desk, never to be opened.

And any time Cosima had asked whether or not she liked writing in her diary, or how it was still in such good condition, as if it had never been opened, Ginny had looked directly at her, smiled, and said she absolutely loved it and simply wanted to keep it in the best possible condition.

Which was, of course, a lie.

But, Ginny rationalized, some lies were okay to tell.

Lies like, "Oh, I adore your present, Cosi!"

Lies like, "Dean, don't worry. There's nothing wrong with us. We're doing _fine_."

Lies like, "We'll make it out of the war all right, dear. Us Weasleys are _survivors_!"

Ginny sat on her bed, holding her book on her lap.

(_It's really ridiculous, isn't it? Frightened of a stupid book?_)

(_Particularly when there's a war going on._)

In one quick motion, Ginny cast _Alohomora _on the diary's tiny gold lock and flung it open—

Nothing happened.

(_It _is _supposed to be a Muggle diary, right?_)

(_I don't think they actually _do _anything._)

The diary creaked as she opened it; the cream-tinted pages were blank with the exception of tan-colored lines to provide writing space. Ginny flipped through the book. It certainly seemed harmless—

And then she remembered that the other diary had appeared perfectly harmless too — until she'd started writing in it.

(_Bugger._)

She moved over to her desk, which still had a quill and ink bottle that she hadn't packed yet. Trying to quell her quick breathing and shaking hands, Ginny reached out and took the quill, covered the tip in ink, and with a trembling hand, touched the tip to the paper—

_Dear Diary, _

She waited.

Nothing happened.

She exhaled, and she started writing, slowly.

_June — three days after Dumbledore died —1997._

(_Where to start?_)

Ginny set her mouth in a straight line.

_I guess I should tell you, as there is no point in holding it back._

_I _hate_ diaries. _

Ginny sat back, read what she wrote, and cocked her eyebrow.

_How could I possibly hate a book? _

_Well, it's because I was possessed by one during my first year at Hogwarts._

Ginny looked at her writing. It was a bit shaky, certainly, but seeing that particular statement written out in such a tangible way was—

(_Nice?_)

(_Yeah. _Nice.)

Smiling to herself, and feeling certain that the diary was not going to write back and start a conversation with her, Ginny kept going.

_Diary, I want to be absolutely clear; my first year is behind me. _

_It's in the past; a mere memory and nothing more. _

Ginny started writing faster, and the thoughts poured forth from her quill to the paper.

_I had already dealt with the "_Thing – That – Shall – Not – Be – Discussed_". My parents had already taken me to an Emotional Healer. The Healer, Flora Auditor, my family, and my own persistence — all of it really helped me deal with the fallout from being chosen as "_You_ – _Know_ – _Who's_" plaything. _

Ginny sighed.

_But, Diary, it's not enough._

_I needed to do something _more_, something to really prove_ _to myself that I've recovered from that mess._

_So, here I am . . . writing in you._

_I should've done this _ages_ ago._

_Is this stupid of me?_

_Is it silly to think that merely writing down my thoughts is a way to stick it to that evil bastard? _

_Well, life goes on, right? I'm sitting here, at my desk, putting quill to paper, and the very fact that I _can_ write in you means something, doesn't it? _

_I'm alive. I've moved on. _

_And the only one controlling me is _me_. _

Ginny chuckled and snorted, and then let out a real laugh.

The book was harmless.

_I've been fixed. _

_Now, if only everything else wasn't going downhill faster than the Chudley Cannons after their first match of the season, life would be all right._

_But it's not. Life is far from all right. _

Ginny stopped laughing and touched the tip of the quill to her lips. Her breath trembled and the quill quivered in the path of moving air.

_War. _

_So, here we are, in 1997. And the death tolls each year keep increasing. _

_I am really_ _trying to look at the bright side of things right now — my family and friends are still alive, unbelievably, as we have survived battles and fights and duels with wizards who are supposed to be older and more powerful than us. _

_But that doesn't mean we haven't suffered losses. And there's more to come, I'm sure of it._

_Cedric Diggory._

_Sirius Black._

_Dumbledore._

Ginny's chin trembled.

_So many others that I barely knew, and so many others that I've never met. _

_All are the same. Gone. _

_Just gone._

_Diary, I have this feeling. _

_It's the same feeling that I got during my fourth year, the day before Christmas holiday. All I could think is that I had this feeling that I thought something really bad was going to happen. _

_That same night, we found out that we nearly lost Dad. _

Ginny had to stop for just a moment; she leaned back and stretched, and as her hand passed by her face, she took the opportunity to wipe her eyes.

Even though she reassured herself that she was not crying.

(_Most definitely not . . . right, Ginevra?_)

Ginny rolled her eyes at herself.

Even her _own_ thoughts managed to sound condescending, scolding her like she was just a little girl.

_So now, when I get that feeling in my guts, I listen to it. _

_I got that same feeling when we fought at the Ministry last year. Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, was killed in that battle. _

_He was a good bloke. A little wild, and reckless, sure._

_But he loved Harry so much._

_And that feeling came back a couple of nights ago, just before Neville, Luna and I were summoned to meet Ron and Hermione next to the Room of Requirement._

_That night, we lost Dumbledore. And we almost lost Bill._

_When all of us were gathered around Bill's bed in the Hospital Wing, I could only think of one thing—_

_I realized then I would've gone through my whole first year_, _even_ _with_ _Tom Riddle's diary, one hundred times over, if it would keep all of my family alive and safe and sound. _

Ginny placed her quill down and rubbed at her eyes.

(_So much for _not _crying!_)

She shook her head, and she watched, as a couple of drops fell onto the page of her book. But Ginny kept writing.

Dammit! _I'm doing it again._

_I can't let myself start crying at every single bloody thing anymore. There's too much going on now that wasting tears on the past seem fruitless._

_It's also just plain immature and stupid. _

_There will be a hundred things to cry about when all of this is over, I'm sure of that as I'm sure the Chudley Cannons will once again have a losing season. _

Ginny smiled and chuckled, despite her tears.

_That's two Cannon insults in one entry._

_If Ron ever reads this, there's a very good chance that I might end up dead — or at the very least, forced to sing "_The Cannon's Cheer_" while dangling from my fingernails from the strongest branch of the Burrow's oak tree._

_Or, he may not._

_Ron's been a bit . . . _different_ this year._

_I dunno if it's because he had been seeing an Emotional Healer to help him deal with the effects of the brain attack during the battle at the Ministry. Or, maybe it's because he manned up and admitted that he had feelings for Hermione._

_My brother, the _sensitive _prat._

_He's changed a lot, Ron has. Before my fourth year, he wouldn't have given two shits about any Slytherins. _

_Then, out of nowhere, Daphne Greengrass appears at our first meeting of Dumbledore's Army. You should've seen Ron, all red-faced, spluttering angrily and objecting to allowing that "crazy, snake-loving slag" to join us. He despised her, he yelled at and fought her. He was convinced that she was going to turn them all in._

_But, she didn't._

_She stuck by the DA. She fought with us at the Ministry._

_Maybe it was all this that started softening Ron toward Daphne. Maybe Hermione and Harry really worked on him, to get him to understand Daphne and to give her a chance._

_Or . . . maybe Ron realized, all on his own, that Daphne wasn't like the other Slytherins — that she was nothing like Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabbe or Goyle. In fact, I think she despises them as much as we do._

_Whatever it was, Ron changed. Ron grew up. _

_And now, Ron counts Daphne as one of his closest friends._

Ginny re-read the last sentence she wrote

_It's amazing to me how much things can change in the span of a year. _

_Ron's best friends with a Slytherin._

_Ron and Hermione are together._

_Harry and I are together too. And yes, he's a fantastic bloke. _

_And _Godric! _I really do like him. _

_I like him a lot. _

_And, even though love is in the air, we can't enjoy it for very long._

_Because, once again, this school year ended with one more casualty. _

_Dumbledore._

_By Snape._

_How? How did this happen? _

_A man that Dumbledore trusted. A man who was supposed to be one of us. One of the Order. _

_He killed him. _

_Maybe I'm still in shock. I haven't cried about Dumbledore yet. The funeral's coming up, so it might hit me then. _

_Right now, the only reaction I have to the news that a professor at Hogwarts killed our Headmaster is just shock. Numbness. _

_He killed the most powerful wizard alive. And I want to cry about it, and I can't._

_But that doesn't stop it from playing over and over in my head. _

_Dumbledore's dead. _

Ginny paused.

The image popped back into her mind, unbidden and unasked for; any time she thought back to that night, to Dumbledore's death, she always remembered—

_Bill._

_The thing that got to me — the thing that gets me every time — is Bill._

_Bill lying in that hospital bed._

_Bill, bloodied and broken._

_Bill almost dead. _

_I lose it every time. _

_And it doesn't stop with Bill. It's Ron . . . Fred . . . George . . . Percy . . . Charlie . . . Mum and Dad. I see them, motionless, prone. They've stopped breathing and their eyes are wide open, staring at nothing. _

_I can see them . . . but they don't see me._

_I yell for them . . . but they don't wake up._

_My whole family is in this war until the bloody end. _

_Until we win, or until we're all dead. _

_Diary, I'm so . . . _so scared. _I know that I already wrote that I would go through my first year over and over again if that was all that was needed to end this war. _

_But, as terrified as I was then, it's starting to pale in comparison to what's going on now. The only difference is that, now, my fear is not for me._

_It's for _my_ family and everyone I've ever called a friend that's in this shit! _

_It's for Ron; because I know he'll probably sacrifice himself to save Hermione and Harry for "the greater good". _

_It's for Hermione, who will become a target should You – Know – Who gain power, all because her parents are Muggles. _

_It's for Harry, who had no choice but to become "The Chosen One". _

_But my fear is _not_ for me. I'm in control of my mind and my body now. I'm not that eleven-year-old who allowed that bastard inside my head, my heart and my soul. _

_I'm afraid that my family will not make it out of this . . . but I'm not afraid for me. I still have my power, and I will use it when _my_ time comes._

_I'm Ginevra Molly Weasley, and I am not afraid. I am not afraid._

_I am not afraid._

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**A/N: ** Read and_ not_ leave a review? _INCONCEIVABLE!! _I'd love to hear what you think about this. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 1: Weasleys' Worries

**A/N: **I own nothing. This chapter is rated T for strong language. Thanks so much to my beta, stella8h8chang for her help editing this chapter.

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**Chapter 1: Weasleys' Worries**

"Hey, runt."

Ginny had been looking through the window of the Hogwarts Express as they passed through green trees and rolling hills. The trip back to London and Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross Station seemed endless, mostly because she had chosen to sit by herself in a lone train compartment. There were so many empty carriages; _so many_ of the students had left Hogwarts before the official end of term.

Now that Dumbledore was—

"Ginny?"

Ginny came out of her trance with a start. Turning her head, she looked over at the source of the voice. Ron had slid the glass door to the compartment shut and sat directly across from her. He had a small, sad grin on his face.

"How're you doin', Gin?"

"Oh, I'm fine and all . . ." her voice drifted away.

Ron chuckled gently. "Ya sound like someone's stabbed your pygmy puff—"

Ginny tried to let a little smirk out, as such a comment in the past would certainly have warranted one.

But she just didn't feel motivated to at the moment, not when she was absolutely certain that her brother would be leaving them and helping Harry with . . . with . . .

With whatever Harry would be doing.

Instead, Ginny merely sighed and gave Ron a small smile. "I mean, when the whole world's falling apart, and so many people have already died, I'm just sitting here, wallowing in my own sadness because I just got dumped." Ginny gave him a sideways glance, and snorted humorlessly. "I'm really quite pathetic, Ron."

"_This_ is _really_ sad."

Ginny cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why? What's sad?"

"You're sounding more and more like me," Ron said, crossing his arms.

Ginny shook her head. "I'm such an idiot."

"Well, now you're really starting to sound like me."

Ginny elbowed him. "St-stop that," she said, and Ginny cursed herself for feeling her eyes watering again. "I . . . I shouldn't l-let it hurt me, y'know?" Ginny swatted at her face. "But _he's_ going . . . you and Hermione are going too, to . . . _wherever,_" Ginny took a great big gasp, and felt a bubble of spit form at her mouth; she wiped at her lower face. She kept staring at the floor, even as she felt Ron move into the seat next to her. "And everyone's dying and hurting and families are being torn apart and I'm losing you guys. I'm losing Harry, my best friend, a-and my _b-br-brother,_" Ginny attempted to stifle another gasp behind her small fingers and turned to look at Ron, who had her in a solid, one-armed embrace.

"Hey, it's all right. I'm still here, yeah?"

"But you're not going to be!" Ginny said suddenly.

Oh how she _hated_ having these emotional outbursts; she hated that she could get all sobbing and soppy and selfish. She had been feeling just fine as she had walked away from Harry after he had broken up with her. She hadn't cried nor had she thrown any breakables like she wanted to.

She didn't want to break things because she was pissed at Harry. No—

She was pissed at the _whole situation_!

It was all this _shit_, this darkness and evil that she had faced so many years ago with that diary. It was all coming back, but the scope was far larger than before.

And this darkness, this evil would be separating her from the people that she loved: her family, and her friends.

It would destroy the world she had always known.

"Ron . . . what a-about our family, huh? You're putting yourself on the front _line_! And I kn-know you. I know what you'll d-do--"

Ron furrowed his brow, like he was confused. "Oh, really, Gingersnap?"

Ginny shook her head. "Ron, _don't_! Just . . ." Ginny licked and rubbed her lips together. "You'll get hot-headed—"

"What, me? Hot-headed? Never!"

"_Ron_!" Ginny huffed. "You'll put yourself out there. You'll give up your own _life_ to protect Harry and Hermione!"

Much to Ginny's increasing frustration and growing hysterics, Ron only gave her a condescending, pitiful look. "Ginny, don't worry. We'll be fine. Don't know if you knew this, but Hermione Granger's actually a fairly smart witch for her age. And Harry's practically invincible--"

Ginny punched him hard in the stomach. Ron gasped and winced at the painful physical contact.

"_OW_!" He rubbed at his stomach where her fist had connected with his body.

"You _can't_!" Ginny practically screamed. "It'll destroy Mum if she loses you! It'll kill all of us, Ron." Ginny was panting, looking at her brother with wet, and pleading eyes. He averted his gaze and focused on the floor. Ginny had to take a few deep breaths before she could continue to talk. "We almost lost Bill. When I saw his face . . . when I saw him lying in the hospital and when I watched Fleur and Mum wiping his f-face, it was too cl-close," she said, her voice shaking. "W-we almost l-lost Dad too." Ginny was whispering now. "I just feel th-that . . . the family has to stick together, Ron. We have to _be _together as much as possible. We need to make sure that we don't lose anyone." Ginny turned her eyes back on Ron. "I can't lose you. You're my hero. You've always been—"

Ginny wanted to cringe at the _very _corny sentiment.

But it was so very true.

And she had to make Ron believe it.

She had to make Ron believe it until he was gone.

Ron smirked at this. "Your hero, Ginny? Thought Harry was your hero?"

Ginny shook her head. "I care a lot about Harry. Hell, I might even be in love with him." She held down a giggle as she saw the humorously disgusted look on her brother's face.

(_Well, glad to see there are some things about the git that haven't changed!_)

"But before there was Harry, Hermione, or Hogwarts, there was always _us_. Our family. And you, Ron." Ginny looked up at the ceiling, seeking for more words to say to her brother while pointedly avoiding direct eye contact with him. "_You_ protected me when those Muggle kids from the village were bullying me. You even stood up to Fred and George when they'd pick on me . . ."

"Didn't quite do that all the time," Ron said, with a humble tone to his voice. He shrugged. "'S'not really a big deal, Gin . . ."

"—And you stayed with me and kept me company through my 'Summer of Hell', remember?"

"After all the shit that you went through your first year, Gin, it was the absolute _least _I could do."

"You've always been there, Ron—"

"'Cause I'm your brother. I live with ya."

"—I always counted on you to protect me, to help me out . . ."

"Because little 'runts' like you do need some extra protection," Ron smirked.

" . . . And if I have to keep saying you're my hero every day this summer until the three of you leave to do what you're going to do, I'll keep saying it. I'll say it over and over again until you believe it."

Ron opened his mouth, but Ginny saw, for once, he had no pithy comeback, no sarcastic retort or phrase. Closing it promptly, he gave a fleeting smile to his sister.

"Okay, Ginny. I believe you. All right?"

Ginny's mouth drew into a firm line and she gave one nod, apparently finishing that particular conversation, even if she knew Ron still didn't buy it.

(_Such a stubborn fool._)

"You know," she said, in a softer voice, "I call you a 'prat' a lot."

Ron snorted. "You also call me 'git' and 'idiot' — probably seventy-five to ninety percent of the time you don't actually use my real name."

Ginny nodded and smiled lopsidedly at him. "I'm gonna say this only once," she spoke quietly, "but every time I call you 'prat' or 'git', what I really mean is 'I really love you and you drive me completely mental and crazy, but in a good way, and I don't want to lose you, because you're my brother and you're the absolute best.'" She stopped talking and looked at Ron. He had an awkward expression on his face, almost like a grin bordering on a grimace.

Ginny thought he wasn't quite sure what to make of her sudden outpouring of affection for him.

"I just want you to know that. Who knows what it's gonna be like once we get home. We may not have the chance to talk, and, right now, I want to say things to you that are a bit sappy and sweet." Ginny smiled at him and he grinned in response.

Ron and Ginny sat for a few minutes in silence, listening to the wheels of the Hogwarts Express, letting the conversation they had only moments before hang in the air around them.

"Why aren't you sitting with Harry and Hermione?" Ginny asked him after a few moments had passed.

"Oh . . . erm," Ron shifted uncomfortably next to Ginny. "Well, er . . ."

Ginny sighed.

"Ron, Hermione already told me that you two are taking a break while you're helping out Harry."

Ron looked at her sheepishly. "We're two of the biggest sodding losers at love, aren't we?"

Ginny shook her head. "Hermione couldn't stop crying when she was talking to me. She thinks the two of you have to distance yourselves from each other. Look," Ginny spoke directly to him. "You were in the Hospital Wing that night. You saw Bill and Phl- . . . er, Fleur, Remus and Tonks. Love is _it_. Love's all we've got to fight against You-Know-Who." Ginny smiled at him. "Just always remember, no matter what happens with you and Hermione, she loves you. I mean, she really _loves_ you."

"This _is_ really quite soppy for you. You've been dipping into those trashy novels Lavender Brown's been reading?"

Ginny snorted. "Let me be a sop. Today only." She arched her eyebrow and wiggled a finger at him.

Ron sighed and once again turned back to face Ginny. "Honestly, I just needed to get some space from Hermione, for right now. And I thought I'd check in on my favorite sister." Ron smiled at her. Ginny nudged him with her arm.

"Your _only_ sister, Ron."

Ron shrugged. "Well, it's true either way, then, innit?"

Ginny blinked and smiled fully across her face. She shook her head in amusement, but the lump in her throat was not going away. "Prat."

* * *

She leaned against the pillar, her arms crossed, and her things laying at her feet.

She watched him.

She watched him with his uncle — who rather resembled a planet — and his aunt, who reminded Ginny of a pig wearing a blonde wig. Both were cowering in fear as Mad-Eye Moody, Bill Weasley (his scars still mending and giving him a rather intimidating appearance), Tonks and Remus Lupin dressed them down.

He looked over at her direction.

For a brief moment, she considered abandoning her possessions to throw herself into his arms—

"_Ginny_! There you are, my girl!"

The warm and familiar sound of her father's voice caused Ginny's heart to leap up into her throat. She turned and saw the tall, thin, balding man stride quickly toward her.

However, just as she was about to throw her arms around him in a tight embrace, he halted her with his right hand.

"You need to remember to ask me my identification question, Ginny," Arthur Weasley reminded her sternly.

"Dad, if you were a Death Eater, I'd be dead already," she blurted out without thinking.

(_Ginevra! You idiot!_)

Her father's face blanched and his stance faltered a bit.

Ginny shook her head quickly. "Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean—" she watched as her father's face slowly regained its color and stopped herself, blinked, and then proceeded to ask, "What is your dearest ambition, Dad?"

"To find out how airplanes stay in the air," he said mildly. "Now, Ginny, what was the name Fred and George named your stuffed bear when you were five years old?"

Ginny had to suppress a giggle. "Ronald McPoopyPants Terwillikers Bear, also _affectionately_ known as _Ronnie_ McPoopyPants." It had been a stroke of genius when Fred and George had recommended _that _bit of information as Ginny's identification question and answer; Ron's face had reddened to twenty times its normal (_angry!_) blush, and he had vehemently forbidden asking his question anywhere near Harry or Hermione.

Arthur himself smiled and chuckled, which gradually grew into a laugh. "Ah, my daughter!" He embraced her with a tremendous, firm, and strong hug. Ginny happily returned it.

"Ah, there's Harry! Haven't seen him yet--" Arthur was just about to wave Harry over, when Ginny pushed his arm down.

"Dad, _please!_"

"What's wrong, dear?" Arthur gave his daughter a very concerned look.

Ginny swallowed. "H-Harry and I . . . we broke up."

He let out a small groan of sympathy. "Oh sweetheart," he said softly, and he gave Ginny a squeeze that she gratefully returned. Arthur kissed the top of her head.

"Ron's seeing Hermione off," Ginny said after a moment, hoping desperately to change the subject. There was a fine hint of amusement in her voice, though, and Arthur gave her a sly grin and a wink.

"Well, I wouldn't want to embarrass them now, would I?" Arthur looked over at where Ron stood, saying his goodbyes to Hermione. The two teenagers kept embracing each other, as if no words or actions would be enough for either of them to part.

Ginny sighed and tried hard not to be annoyed at the couple. "They're only gonna be apart for one _bloody_ week!"

Arthur looked over to his daughter and gave a small hum. "How are you holding up Ginny?"

She looked over at her dad and smiled at him with a twinge of melancholy. "I'm fine." She blinked and shook her head. "Well, no I'm not really fine. I'll be all right, though." Ginny's eyes drifted to some point in front of her. "There are others somewhere that aren't nearly as _fine_ as I am. There are others out there that've already lost so much . . . everything. They don't have _anything_." Her eyes fell to the floor.

"There's definitely truth to that statement, Gingersnap," Arthur said in a quiet voice. Ginny looked up at her dad, and he gave her the gentle smile of a father comforting his only daughter. "Look, whatever's troubling you, whether it be about boys, or _a _boy, or life . . . talk to your mum or me. Talk to Fleur or Bill or Fred or George or Ron. Don't let yourself think things are too small or too strange or too unimportant, Ginny." He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her tightly. "Now is the time that we need to be a family. _Do__n't _forget _that_," he said. It was the unexpected emphasis on the last phrase that made Ginny's smile falter and look at her father without a trace of amusement. Arthur regarded her with a very serious expression, one that demanded total and complete acceptance of his request.

To finish his point, he gave her a small nod and a small peck on her forehead.

Ginny, much to her consternation felt her eyes watering again.

"_Dad_! _Ginny_!" Ron huffed at the two of them. He had finally broken away from Hermione, who waved at Arthur and Ginny as she followed her parents to their car. He ran up to his father and let himself be pulled into an embrace.

"Ron. You all right, son?" Arthur asked, as they broke apart.

He ruffled his shaggy red hair. "Yeah, 'm fine, Dad. Just, y'know . . ." he shrugged and his brow creased as if he was holding back the words he really wanted to say.

"Hermione'll be fine. She'll go back home for a week and then spend the rest of the summer with _us. _Nothing will happen to her. Nothing she can't handle, at least." Ginny guessed that his anxiety over Hermione's well being was at the root of Ron's sudden inability to speak.

"Yeah," Ron said vaguely. "Y-you're, uh . . . r-right. I should stop worrying."

"You should know that Bill and Kingsley set about strengthening the wards around her home while you were at school, and we've got an Order member monitoring the premises." Arthur placed a hand on his son's shoulder to quell his worried and troubled son.

"Yeah. I'm sure they did a great job with her house and all . . . it's just, I need to make sure she's safe."

"She will be. We'll make sure of that, not to worry."

Ron breathed out in a long, drawn-out sigh. Looking down, he saw some parchments his father was holding. "What're those?"

"Huh? Oh, these," Arthur said, holding up the papers. "Your mother and I received some interesting documents a couple of days ago. We were waiting for you and Ginny to get back home because we think you might be able to help us out with this particular, er, assignment."

Ron creased his forehead and brow and looked at Ginny, who was just as confused as her brother was.

"They're from Dumbledore."

Arthur laughed as both Ron and Ginny's eyebrows shot up at the exact same time.

"From Dumbledore?" they asked in unison.

Arthur wiggled his index finger. "Let it never be said you two _aren't _related." Arthur held his hand out for the three of them to start making their way toward the Ministry car that Arthur had been able to borrow for the trip from King's Cross station to the Burrow. "Mr. Elphias Doge sent it to us, stating there were explicit instructions for us to open it upon Dumbledore's death."

"What's it say, then? And why would it have anything to do with me?"

"It's about Daphne Greengrass, Ron."

Ron's mouth dropped open. Daphne Greengrass was the short, sullen, Slytherin girl who had spent the last summer with the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione -- much to Ron's consternation at the time. Daphne had been the only Slytherin who had participated in Dumbledore's Army in Ginny's fourth year and she had actually fought with the trio at the Ministry. For a very long time, and unbeknownst to Daphne herself, Dumbledore had taken a special interest in Miss Greengrass' upbringing and welfare. He had meddled and intervened in Daphne's childhood, and had placed her in a foster home with a Squib where she could feel somewhat stable. Dumbledore had been overjoyed when Daphne chose to join the DA and to support Harry at the Ministry; the Headmaster had taken great care to make sure all throughout her sixth year that she, Harry, Ron and Hermione would develop a lasting friendship.

Ron and Daphne had had a _very _difficult time reaching common ground throughout their fifth year and on into the summer months; however, by the middle of September of their sixth year, the Slytherin and the Gryffindor had made amends and became real friends. Ron had even considered Daphne to be like a sister to him.

All of this was information Ginny had gleaned from conversations with Harry, Ron and Hermione throughout the last year. Although she had no idea as to Dumbledore's interest in Daphne Greengrass' welfare, there seemed to be some connection between the Headmaster's research in regards to Tom Riddle's past and Daphne's childhood.

It was because of this connection that Dumbledore wanted to offer Daphne a life full of love and a family, in the hopes that she would choose the path of light, rather than a life full of darkness.

And _that_ was where the Weasleys came in.

"Er . . . okay? What about Daphne, Dad?" Ron asked.

"Dumbledore's asked that your mother and I allow Daphne to move in with our family for the remainder of her time at Hogwarts. It's a bit of an odd request, certainly, since I'm not quite sure Muggle laws would recognize Dumbledore as having any recourse to say where Daphne gets to live or not live, but his letter says that he has 'taken care' of any arrangements on the Muggle side of things regarding Daphne's stay with us. We just need to pick her up."

Ginny sucked in a breath. "Good luck with that. She left school a few days ago, and no one's heard from her."

Ron nodded in agreement. "I don't even know where to start looking."

"Dumbledore's already got that covered, Ron." Arthur smiled at his son. "How about we go back home so you two can have a nice dinner. Fred and George'll be coming by tonight and we'll get our plan going. Daphne could be joining us as soon as tomorrow."

Ron grimaced and smiled at the same time. "Dad, not quite sure you remember this, but Daphne's not . . . well, she's not exactly the most calm or_ rational _person I've ever met."

"What I think Ron means is that she's got the temper if you mated a skrewt with a dragon," Ginny added.

Arthur chuckled and addressed his son. "Well, you seem to have had a way with her. Actually, you, Harry and Hermione all seem to get along with Daphne just fine."

"No, I really like the girl. I mean, she's got a lot of issues to work on, but I'm wanting to help. I just don't know what we're gonna come across when we find her."

Arthur patted his youngest son on the back once again. "Which is why I think seeing a friendly face will help her out and keep her calm. I think seeing _you_, too, will make her rather happy!"

Ron shook his head, but he couldn't stop a smile from peeking out from his face.

"And, Ginny," Arthur turned to his daughter as they approached the car. "You'll try to get to know her better, right?" There was a sort of hopefulness tinged with a tiny amount of desperation in his voice.

(_Well, these _are_ desperate times, are they not?_)

Ginny sucked in a breath; she wasn't quite sure how Daphne would react to her, given that the Slytherin girl had been harboring feelings for Harry Potter and Ginny had been the girl to snag his heart. "'Course, Dad. This'll be a good chance to do that."

They finally approached the car, flanked in the front by Bill and Mad-Eye, who roughly slammed his stick into the asphalt. "Too much chattin' and not enough caution! I told yeh to drop off Granger and get to the car as quick as possible—"

Bill cut off Mad-Eye's ranting with a slap on the back. "Oh, c'mon Moody," he said, glancing between the old Auror and his father. "Next thing, you'll be telling them they can't go to the loo without _Constant Vigilance_!" Bill bellowed Moody's refrain, and Arthur and Ron chuckled.

"I apologize, Moody. I had to discuss a couple of things with Ron, and I wanted to give Ron some time to say a proper good-bye to Hermione." Ron's ears turned bright red at his father's words. "I know you understand the strong pull of young love, right, Alastor?"

Moody glared at Arthur with his magical eye, and Levitated Ron and Ginny's things into the trunk of the car, grumbling all the while about how _young_ _love_ wasn't likely to hold up against the Cruciatus Curse or any of the other Unforgivable Curses.

Once the parties had settled in, and once Tonks and Lupin had joined up with them, looking incredibly happy, the Weasleys and the Order took the long route back to the Burrow.

* * *

**A/N:** For more background on Daphne Greengrass, please see my prequel**, _Daphne Greengrass and the 6th Year From Hell_. **Specifically, the Prologue, Chapters, 3, 7, 15, 17 and 23-25 delve pretty heavily into the back story I created for Daphne and Dumbledore's reasons for meddling in her life. I will be weaving the backstory as you read this work too. Also, if you are interested in how Daphne got an "in" with the trio, please check out my one-shot, **_Hermione Granger: A Second Thought_**. Fifth-year Hermione flashes back to her third-year introduction and meeting with the odd Slytherin girl.

Please read and review. I do love feedback. And thanks to the readers that have put this on their alerts and reviewed the prologue to this work. I appreciate the support.


	3. Chapter 2: Meeting of Old Friends

**A/N: **The lyrics are from the song "Common People" from the 1995 album _Different Class_ by Pulp, my second favorite band after my beloved Beatles! The lead singer, Jarvis Cocker, played the lead singer of the Weird Sisters in _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire._

I own nothing. Rated T for strong language. Thanks to stella8h8chang for the beta.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Meeting of Old Friends**

"_She came from Greece, she had a thirst for know-ledge. _

_She studied sculpture at St. Martin's Col-lege. _

_That's where_ _I—_"

Daphne Greengrass shook her head left and right in beat with the synthesized music.

"—_caught her eye_!"

She bopped along and sang as she listened to her Discman and one of the compact discs she had pilfered . . .

(_I _liberated_ them!_)

. . . one of the compact discs she had _liberated_ from the record store on Berwick Street.

She had just spent the better part of the morning helping Miss Elvira Proctor pack up some of her belongings. Daphne was actually rather surprised with the amount of things Elvira was sending to storage; the house was filled practically floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes and shipping material.

It rather looked like Elvira Proctor was moving.

She was even more surprised to discover, upon her arrival at Miss Proctor's home, that Elvira had stopped taking in any more foster children. And, Daphne observed, Elvira seemed far more nervous and more scared than she had ever seen her to be. Whenever Daphne would ask her, "Everything all right?" Elvira would simply nod vigorously and give Daphne a shaky smile.

"Never mind," Elvira would say as she waddled to the kitchen. "I'll put some tea on."

And, Daphne didn't fail to notice that Miss Proctor kept getting up in the middle of the night to bustle about downstairs, making tea or a late-night snack.

As Daphne bopped along to her new music, she thumbed through some letters that had arrived at Miss Proctor's practically at the same time as she had arrived—

_Daphne — I hope you're doing all right. Really missed you. Could've used your "sunny disposition" around here to liven things up. I know you left and you didn't want anyone to know, but please write me back. I just want to make sure you're okay._

_Michael (a.k.a. "Mikey", a.k.a. The-Greatest-Bloke-You've-Ever-Met!)_

"Cheeky bugger," she had muttered after she'd read Michael Corner's missive . . . but she had said it with a small smile on her face and a blush on her cheeks.

Daphne had written her former boyfriend back a couple of days after she had received his letter. Her response had been short and simple, and Michael had sent at least two more letters, trying to open a greater line of communication between the two of them—

_**KNOCK**_**! **_**KNOCK**_**! **_**KNOCK**_**!**

Daphne paused her music player and hooked her earphones around her neck. Leaving Michael's parchments on her bed, she crawled roughly over and reached up to open the door.

Elvira's head peeked through the opening. Daphne noted the continued look of apprehension and fear in Elvira's eyes, wringing her hands. Wisps of hair fell out of her loose bun.

"You okay in there, Daphne?" Elvira's voice was deceptively steady.

Daphne furrowed her brow, but continued to look at her foster mother. "Sure. Fine. Everything okay out there?"

"Actually, you have some visitors."

(_What. The. Hell_.)

"B-b-but, no one knows I'm here!"

(_Zabini! That bloody turncoat!_)

"Well, it's your friend from school. The one you spent the holiday with, I think. He's got the funny last name and red hair."

Daphne looked at Elvira with complete disbelief. "Ron's here?"

Elvira nodded. "He's brought company, too."

Daphne scrambled off the bed and pushed past Elvira rather rudely, impatient to get down the stairs of the compact and modest two-story terraced home in West Kensington.

She hopped off the last two steps, stomped into the living room, and came face to face with several heads of flaming red hair, two pairs of blue eyes, and two pairs of brown and hazel eyes in nearly-identical faces.

"Oh _crap_!"

"Is that how you greet all your friends?" Ron asked, with a lopsided smirk and he crossed his arms.

"Y'know, Fred," George turned to his twin brother, "I'm a little offended."

"I know what ya mean," Fred said. "We come over here, leaving our cozy little flat, and our burgeoning business—"

"And all we get is an 'Oh crap!' for our troubles."

Fred and George looked at Daphne and shook their heads slowly in unison.

"Ya break our hearts, Greengrass!"

"George, we shall rise above our sadness and pain one day—"

"Boys, please," Arthur held up a hand to halt the twins' banter. He then turned toward Daphne and gave her a smile. "Daphne! So good to see you again." Arthur looked around the room. It was filled with boxes and belongings scattered about chaotically. "Charming place. Looks like you and Miss Proctor are cleaning house or moving out?"

Daphne creased her brows and scratched her elbow. She stayed quiet.

"Daphne, we all came here to, well . . . we wanted to propose something to you, and see if you would agree with it." Arthur had sat back down, and now Daphne could see that he was holding some loose parchments in his right hand.

Daphne looked around and found Elvira's chipped piano bench. She pulled and parked it directly in front of Arthur. Summoning the most supremely annoyed and bored expression that she could muster, Daphne plopped herself down on the seat, crossed her legs, draped her hand over her knees, and let out an almighty sigh.

Arthur merely chuckled at Daphne's expression. His own face, however, fell as he prepared himself for what he was going to say.

"I'm not sure if you're aware of what's been going on in the days immediately following the attack at Hogwarts." Arthur paused; Daphne shook her head, her face softening just a bit. "Well, I say this because things are now deteriorating very quickly. You-Know-Who's followers have taken to attacking Muggle neighborhoods, towns, boroughs, what have you. We're predicting that they _will_ make a move on Muggle-borns and possibly Squibs as well, in the very near future."

Any attempt at maintaining the bored, frustrated, or annoyed appearance slid right off of Daphne's face. She leaned forward, looking among the four Weasleys in apprehension and horror.

"You m-mean, Elvira too, then . . . right?"

Arthur's jaw flexed and he looked just to the right of Daphne's head.

"Daphne, I-I didn't want to alarm you." The Slytherin girl turned around at the sound of Elvira Proctor's voice, now soft and apprehensive. "I know that this past year's been very rough on you at Hogwarts, and when I heard about the Headmaster . . ." At this, Elvira brought her tissue up to dab her eyes and nose.

Daphne swallowed, a thick lump of emotion logged deep in her throat.

(_Ohdamnohdamnohdamnohdamn_—)

"Headmaster D-Dum-Dumbledore h-had sent me a letter, probably no more than a couple of months back. H-he told me that, at some point, and I would probably know what that point was, that I-I would need to take some precautions for my own safe-safety, that it was very likely that Y-You-Know-Who would start going after Muggles, Muggle-borns, and Squibs first. I mean, when you come from an entire family that can do magic, and you're the sole person that can't so much as f-fl-float a feather . . ." Elvira sniffed and frowned. "Anyway," she shook her head and wrung her hands, "h-he warned me that I may want to think about relocating, if I can." Elvira gave a deep sigh. "I'm thinking that my sister, Esmerelda, w-well, she works with the French Ministry of Magic, and I think I might be able to stay with her. We get along all right, although she probably owls me m-more than I ring h-her. Fr-France has the same issues with S-Squibs as England, but the war hasn't quite reached there yet . . ."

Daphne noticed that Elvira wasn't really looking at them while she was talking, and with each rambling, Elvira's voice and movements, already inhibited with the woman's crying, were growing more and more agitated and anxious.

And Elvira's anxiety and nervousness were causing feelings to rise in Daphne; it was a bizarre mix of sadness toward Elvira, and white-hot anger for her own situation.

(_Utterly fucked again, aren't you, Greengrass?_)

(_Utterly fucked and nowhere else to go, and staying here ain't doing you or her any good!_)

(_The one bloody sanctuary you've always counted on being there for you, and it's over!_)

"So," Daphne interjected sharply, "you were going to just _what_? Leave? Not tell me about it?! I've been packing and wrapping and helping you get all this . . . _this shit _together, pretending like you were going to take it to storage and you couldn't bother telling me that we're all fucked?" Daphne stood up roughly from the piano bench, knocking it over.

"Daphne—" Arthur tried to calm her down.

"You know, seriously, just — just . . ." Daphne said, palms out, backing away from the group, whose faces registered either shock or awkward wincing at her sudden outburst.

Before she could even finish her thought, Daphne pivoted around and ran up the stairs. Slamming the door to her room shut, she pulled her trunk to the middle of the room and threw the lid open.

Taking two breaths, she pointed her wand at her Discman. "_Sonorous_," she bellowed. Daphne heard the quick, synthetic percussion and upbeat dance tempo pipe through the room, followed by the angry voice singing from her compact disc—

"_You'll never live like common people! _

_You'll never do what-ever common people do! _

_You'll never fail like common people! _

_You'll never watch your life slide out of view!_"

"_Crescendo_!" Daphne exclaimed with such force that the song's volume increased in a split second; it blasted through the room, pounding on the walls with its ferociously ear-splitting beat.

Pouring all her anger out on her belongings, Daphne started throwing and shoving anything and everything that she thought might be hers into the trunk.

"_You will never understand how it feels to live your life _

_With no meaning or control, _

_And with nowhere left to go . . . "_

She jumped in shock when she felt someone tapping on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw Ron Weasley, screaming something at her that she could only guess was her name, muffled in the din of the music CD.

"_Decrescendo_!" Daphne yelled at her Discman.

"_Godric_, Daphne! Blimey! How're you _not_ deaf yet?" Ron asked her in breathless disbelief. "I've been screaming your name for ages, and before that, I was pounding at your door for at least the last half of this century!"

"Didn't hear you," Daphne muttered. She had already turned her attention back to her clothes, which had been scattered in the bedroom over the past few days and was throwing anything that wasn't tied, glued, or bolted down into her trunk.

"Apparently. You wouldn't be able to hear a tribe of giants if they came stampeding down the street," Ron deadpanned. Daphne broke quickly from her packing to briefly glare at him.

"You going somewhere?"

Oh, how she wanted to slap that smirk right off of his stupid, caring face!

"Apparently, it doesn't matter if I don't say anything or not! You lot're going to find me anyways."

Daphne could practically hear Ron roll his eyes; she was sure it was accompanying the tremendous sigh that sounded like his body was deflating.

"You're such an _idiot_!"

She stopped, huffed and turned around sharply. "Well, thanks for that! So glad to know what you _really _think about me." She turned away from him. "S'pose I'm an _idiot_ for thinking we were friends. I'm definitely an _idiot _for thinking that I could get away from the shit here—"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin's bloody arse, Daphne Greengrass!" Ron exclaimed. "You're an idiot because you didn't even stay downstairs to hear why we're really here."

"Well, why should_ I_?!" Daphne hollered and turned around to face the _stupid_, foolish red-head. She waved around the article of clothing that she was currently holding. "I can't stay here. The longer I _do_ stay here, Elvira becomes more and more of a target for those pure-blooded-leaning wankers! Hell, I do too, just by associating with her—"

"And that's why Dad's made arrangements for you to stay with us at the Burrow!" Ron shouted right back. There was no anger in his voice; he was merely shouting above her so she'd hear him out.

And it certainly worked. Daphne froze.

"Thank bloody _Godric_! So, that little bit of information's sunk in, has it?"

"But I can't! I've still got to come back here until I turn eighteen! I'm not of age yet in the Muggle world—"

"_Ri_-ight, so, it's a good thing you've got some big ol' wizards on your side," Ron smirked.

"Why the hell're you looking at me like that? What d'you mean?" Daphne demanded.

Ron looked at her and shrugged nonchalantly. "Dumbledore."

It was the only thing he said; it was the only thing he needed to say.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "_Dammit!_" She sat down on her bed in a huff. Looking at her hands, she finally saw what she was holding—

"Oh, for _fuck's_ sake!"

(_Of course I'm holding his mum's stupid, fluffy, warm . . . er, _crappy _jumper!_)

She held up the knobbily-knitted Weasley jumper that Molly Weasley had made for her last Christmas. "I can't escape you lot, can I?"

Ron chortled. "We are a stubborn bunch." He nodded at the jumper. "You still kept it then, eh?"

She shrugged. "It's comfy," she said, mumbling under her breath. Daphne heard Ron snort. Looking up, she saw him gesturing toward the hallway with his head.

"C'mon. Why don't you talk to Dad and see what he's got to say."

Showing absolutely no emotion, Daphne nodded and followed Ron out the door.

Arthur and Elvira were having a calm and steady conversation about something that was apparently important; they didn't notice the two teenagers coming down the stairs.

"Ah, Ickle Ronniekins, the _snake_-charmer," piped up Fred, who, unfortunately, _did _notice Ron and Daphne.

"_Piss_ off!" Ron gave them the two-finger salute.

"_Ron_! Watch your manners," Arthur chided; Ron's ears blushed a vibrant crimson. Arthur turned toward the Slytherin girl and spoke with a much quieter, softer tone. "Daphne, we've all come here to invite you to stay with us at the Burrow for the remainder of your time at Hogwarts. It really means that you have this summer, Christmas and Easter holidays, and then the end of term and you're finished. But we just want to make sure that you're safe too."

Daphne didn't say anything.

"Does that sound okay to you?" Arthur once again asked after a few beats of silence.

Daphne looked at the floor and shrugged. "S'pose . . . I really don't have anywhere else to go."

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "We're not being forced to take you in, y'know that, right?" Ron asked her.

Daphne furrowed her brow. "Dumbledore requested it, right? That's what you said."

"Yeah, but—"

"It doesn't matter what I might want, so long as that barmy git gets his way. We all bow to his wishes, don't we?" Daphne heard the bitter anger in her voice. Looking at Ron and his family and Elvira's expressions as they listened to her talk, Daphne felt a bubble of nausea swirling in her guts and she fought the urge to chuck up her bile.

"Daphne, it was never a request or command for us to take you in," Arthur said. The older man walked toward Daphne and spoke in a very gentle, fatherly tone. "I'll show you the letters, but Dumbledore merely asked us if we could take you into our home. He's already handled everything on the Muggle end in regards to placement for you." At this, Arthur leaned in toward Daphne. "Between you and me, I think Dumbledore used some very tricky Memory Charms and Document-Alteration Spells on your caseworkers and their higher-ups." Arthur gave a small wink, and Daphne fought down the grin that threatened to appear on her face. "All we had to do was send in some consent forms with our signatures on them, and you have a new home until you graduate and beyond, if you want."

Daphne turned her eyes toward the older man.

"It's up to you, Daphne. But we want to do this for _you_. Not for Dumbledore. For _you_."

She bit the inside of her cheek, and rubbed her already wet eyes. Daphne let out a great breath . . . and nodded.

Arthur patted her on the head. "This is wonderful, Daphne. We can actually leave today. Ron and the twins will take you back to the Burrow, and I'll stay here and help Miss Proctor with her belongings and help get her to her airplane so she can fly to her family's house in France." Arthur turned to the twins and spoke in a surprisingly commanding tone. "Fred. George. Help Daphne and Ron gather up her belongings. We'll be leaving here within an hour." The three boys ran up the stairs toward Daphne's room.

Daphne felt her heart racing. An _hour_?

This felt like it was happening far too quickly.

"Daphne, I know you must be feeling a bit overwhelmed," Elvira approached her from behind. The teenage girl turned to face her. "But it's necessary, I think, for all of us to get to our new destinations, okay? So that we're safe and out of harm's way."

"I-I kn- . . . know, Elvira," Daphne said shakily. "I-I'm just—" she stuttered, biting her lip.

"Daphne, I know we haven't always been on the best of terms," Elvira touched the collar of Daphne's tee-shirt, as if she were trying to straighten it out. "But I hope that when you remember your time here, that it wasn't all bad." She pressed her hands on Daphne's shoulders. "You should be around friends now, Daphne. You should be around people that can protect you."

That lump — that _blasted_ _lump_ — returned, and it felt like it had brought company, if the growing moisture in her eyes was any indication.

Daphne managed a meek nod and Elvira patted her on her shoulders.

"Dad! Hey, I think we're done." Daphne and Elvira Proctor turned around and saw Ron, Fred and George hauling Daphne's trunk down the stairs. Daphne ran over to them just as they sat the trunk down on the floor. She opened up the lid, checked to make sure they had packed—

"No, no, _no . . . _They're not here." Daphne bolted back up the stairs, her wand still in her hand and threw open her door one last time.

"_Accio_ compact discs."

Immediately, three plastic square cases flew into her hand, one of which was clearly empty, judging by the lightness and feel of the case. She took one final look around the room, more water welling up in her eyes. She had to admit that the Weasley boys had done quite a thorough job with packing and gathering her things together. She didn't realize how few belongings she actually had; the room she had used for ages now was rather bare.

Closing her eyes and tightening her brows together, Daphne shut the door, and headed back down the stairs.

"Daphne?" Arthur inquired, as she emerged from the stairwell. She merely looked at him, trying to keep her face completely expressionless. "You've got everything."

She silently nodded.

Giving her a compassionate smile, Arthur turned to the twins. "Fred. George. I think we're all ready. I'll Banish her things to the Burrow, so Ron and Daphne can Side-Along Apparate . . ."

"I have my Apparition license," Daphne spoke up, her tone mildly indignant.

"Oh yes, I knew that, Daphne. But we're trying something a bit _different_. Just . . . trust me, please. Can you trust me?"

Arthur's look was so full of sincerity and something Daphne interpreted as hopefulness. Whatever it was, it was a look that even Professor Snape would be hard-pressed to ignore.

(_Snape._)

(_Haven't thought about that bastard in a few days, have you?_)

(_D'ya blame me? Every time I think about him, I either want to break something or punch someone in the face!_)

(_Well, I'd say it's a bloody good thing no one's ever said you reminded them of him . . . oh, wait! They _did_! Stupid Dumbledore._)

(_Merlin, my own brain's revolting against me._)

"Daphne?" Arthur's voice successfully pulled Daphne out from her battling inner dialogue. "Are you okay?"

She swallowed and nodded at Ron's father, who once again, smiled at her with such warmth, that it made Daphne feel rather good, even though the thought of leaving this home, and leaving it permanently, loomed in her mind.

(_Home._)

This compact house had been her home for such a long time. Even when she had run away after fights with Elvira or the other children, she'd run away from _this _home, and she'd always been brought back to _this_ home, no matter what.

Daphne again turned back to Elvira Proctor, the woman she had both tormented and worried about for the better part of her adolescence and youth. "We're done then, aren't we?"

Elvira nodded, her own eyes teary and wet. "I don't know if I'll be able to write you, Daphne, once we're gone. I . . . j-just take c-care," Elvira said, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Um, Miss Proctor," Ron came forward and stood next to Daphne. "I just wanted to say that Daphne's talked tons about you. She even made your bread and warm milk dish for all of us. It helped us many nights."

"You made that for them, Daphne?" Elvira looked at her with an expression of disbelief. Daphne watched as Elvira brought her fingers — arthritic and trembling fingers — up to her mouth to steady her lips and chin, both of which were shaking by now.

Daphne suddenly found herself unable to talk. Instead, she steeled herself together. Daphne had already settled in her own mind the realistic expectation that this would be the very last time in her life that she would see Miss Elvira Proctor, her foster mother since she had been seven-years-old.

And so, with that thought firmly in place, Daphne hugged the older woman, as tightly and as sincerely as she thought she was capable of.

"I reckon I'll probably always make it, Elvira," Daphne said quietly, her voice choked with emotion. She could feel Elvira's body shaking, and the older woman was audibly crying.

As she hugged the middle-aged woman, Daphne wondered if Elvira had shrunk over the years; she seemed so much smaller than Daphne remembered, small for even the 5'1" Slytherin girl.

Pulling away from each other, Elvira smoothed down Daphne's flyaway strands, static electricity causing them to hang in the air every which direction. She patted Daphne check gently.

"Take good care of yourself, Daphne. Be careful, will you?"

Daphne nodded, and she turned to face Arthur and the Weasley boys, now standing all together to give the two of them a few moments.

"I'm ready," she said with as much finality as she could fake.

"Well, Greengrass, your 'carriage'," Fred held out his arm to her, "awaits."

Rolling her eyes, but managing a feeble smile, she looked back over her shoulder to Elvira Proctor. Arthur Weasley was standing next to Elvira, a hand on her shoulder, comforting the woman as she cried in earnest.

With a small wave back to her old foster mother, Daphne followed Ron and the twins outside of the house and to the spots designated for their magical travel back to the Burrow.

* * *

**A/N: **The bread and warm milk dish comes from Nigella Lawson, and is one of my favorite comfort foods. It pops up several times in my other story, _**Daphne Greengrass and the 6**__**th**__** Year From Hell**_. And, yes, my version of Daphne has/had a love interest in that story, Michael Corner. If you're interested in how they got together, broke up, and became friends again, check out Chapters 12 and 17, 22, 26, and 28 for background into their relationship.

I'd love to hear from you in a review. Ta!


	4. Chapter 3: At The Burrow

**A/N: **I am so sorry about the delay getting this chapter up. The weekend and following week were wicked crazy. I'm hoping to get the next chapter up next Thursday before I go out of town.

This chapter makes references to Daphne and Fleur's "bonding" moment in Chapter 19 of my prequel, _Daphne Greengrass and the 6th Year From Hell_. Daphne's rather unfortunate encounter with the music store clerk occurred in Chapter 30 of the same story.

I own nothing. Thanks to stella8h8chang for the beta-read.

* * *

**Chapter 3: At the Burrow **

"Who eez zere?"

Ginny jumped up, not expecting any late-night interruptions during her attempt to recreate her mum's hot cocoa. Had it been a Weasley who had snuck up on her, she would've been warned by a thunderous onslaught of heavy footsteps down the stairs, regardless of whether or not it was after midnight.

However, the throaty, accented voice heralded _not_ another Weasley, but—

"Er, Phl- . . . erm, Fleur?" Ginny caught herself before uttering her future sister-in-law's nickname.

"You could not sleep, Ginny?" Fleur asked, sliding into a chair at the Weasleys' dining table.

(_Wow! Brilliant you are, what with me being up in the middle of the night--_)

Ginny held back a very loud snort, and instead opted for civility.

"Yeah. Thought Mum's hot cocoa would help."

"Oh, I zee! I do know your mother made some very good chocolate chip cookies just yesterday. Zey might go well wiz your drink, _non_?"

Ginny goggled at Fleur for a few moments.

"What? Did I say something?"

Ginny shook her head. "Er, _non_. I-I mean, no, Fleur. I just . . . that'd be cool, yeah."

Fleur nodded and got up to retrieve the cookies while Ginny continued to stir.

The two girls remained silent while Ginny poured two mugfuls of the piping hot, creamy drink.

"Marshmallow?" Ginny asked Fleur.

Fleur nodded, fairly enthusiastically, to which Ginny chuckled with amusement. She tossed a few of the soft, white treats into both of their mugs and sat down in an empty chair. Both girls proceeded to sip at their beverages and munch on their cookies.

The silence felt rather thick, almost oppressive. Ginny chewed slowly while watching Fleur take dainty bites of hers. Ginny wondered what in the world they could talk about. They had nothing in common, other than the fact that they both loved Bill.

But Ginny was _so _not ready to discuss her brother's love life.

Not with the girl he was most certainly "doing it" with.

Truth be told, as surprising as Fleur had been at Bill's bedside the night Dumbledore died, Ginny was almost as surprised that Fleur had never brought up that she knew the girls called her "Phlegm". Fleur never treated Ginny poorly because of it. In fact, Fleur treated her quite normally, even nicer than before.

(_If I had found out some girl had called me some crazy nickname, I definitely would've spiked her food with Wheezes and thrown Bat-Bogey Hexes—_)

"So, you do not like me?"

(_Bugger!_)

"What? No! I-I mean, er . . ." Ginny stuttered.

Fleur looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

Ginny sighed and fell back in her chair. "I'm sorry I called you 'Phlegm'." Ginny tore off a corner of her cookie and tossed the dislodged chip into her cocoa.

Fleur gave a little hum and giggle. "Eet eez fine. Zere 'ave been many, many times zat I 'ave been mean and snobby to others." Fleur nodded her head to the redhead. "I apologize eef I 'ave been like zat to you."

Ginny winced. "Honestly, I really can't remember if you've ever been mean to me." She felt a blush creeping up her face.

(_It's fine and dandy to admit when you like someone, but try telling them you didn't like them before._)

"I think that, well," Ginny traced patterns in the grooves of the wood of the table with her fingernail, searching for the right words to say. "I just sort of, um . . . was jealous." She whispered the last word, causing Fleur to lean forward.

"What?"

"_Jealous. _ I was kinda jealous. All right, _really_ jealous." Ginny scrunched up her nose. "S-sorry."

"You were jealous of _moi_?" Fleur gestured toward herself with her palm pressed against her chest. Ginny thought there was a disingenuous tone to her voice, but she quickly realized it was Fleur's accent that was throwing her off.

"Are you surprised?"

"I am, yes." Fleur cocked her head and gave Ginny a rueful smile.

Ginny was perplexed. "Why?"

"I was zee one 'oo wanted to be a part of your family. I wanted to be accepted by you and your mother and brothers. I wanted to get along wiz you, also. I 'ad 'oped that you might t'ink of me as a big sister if you needed one." Fleur twirled the mug against her palms, her beautiful face set in an inscrutable manner.

Ginny took in a couple of breaths. "I didn't like feeling that we were losing Bill to you. Honestly, I--" she stopped and looked at Fleur. Ginny decided that she needed to be honest with this girl, Bill's future wife _and_ her first sister-in-law. "It might be completely idiotic to think like that, but you're the girl in his life now. He doesn't really need us anymore. He'll move on—"

"Ginny," Fleur interrupted, "I am sorry, but I really 'ave to say something here." Fleur set down her mug and looked Ginny squarely in her eyes. "You weel _never_ _lose_ Beel. Your _family_ weel never lose Beel." Ginny jumped back a bit in surprise as Fleur took her hand. "From zees point forward, your family weel only get bigger, _non_?" Fleur smiled and Ginny, despite her deep desire _not _to commiserate with Fleur Delacour, couldn't help but return the expression. "I promise to you and to your 'ole family that nothing weel ever come between any of you and Beel." With a small, but firm, shake of her hand, Fleur sat back in her chair. Ginny raised her eyebrows as she thought about this little moment of honesty between her and Fleur.

"I would like to offer to you my ear, you know. If you do ever need to talk about anything."

Ginny turned to look at the other girl, who had just gotten up out of her chair.

"I am tired, Ginny. I weel see you in zee morning?"

Ginny nodded soundlessly. Fleur once again smiled, and gave Ginny a small pat on her shoulders.

"Sweet dreams, Ginny."

And Ginny watched as Fleur slowly walked up the stairs to her room, leaving her alone in the kitchen to think about the ways in which she had been so quick to judge people over the past few years.

* * *

Living among the Weasleys as they prepared for a proper wedding was more insane than Daphne could've ever imagined. It was more common than not to hear Fleur say something in French and Daphne could work out that she was probably swearing in her native tongue.

Daphne at least reckoned that "_Merde!_" probably didn't mean "unicorns" or "candy".

It had surprised Daphne greatly that, upon her arrival at the Burrow, Fleur Delacour had greeted her with quite an enthusiastic hug and had chided her in a very friendly manner that Daphne should have written her over the spring term. She had had the presence of mind to look very sheepish at Fleur's reprimand, and French girl had made her promise to write more during the upcoming year.

"Daphne, I would like eet eef you told me what was going on wiz you at 'ogwarts. If you 'ave any problems or anything you would like to talk about, do not 'esitate."

The Slytherin nodded; she turned around to glare at Ron as he snickered at the very unusual pair of friends.

"Oh, you should not make fun, Ron," Fleur said, pinching his cheeks and ruffling his hair. "You should remember that I am marrying Beel in a few weeks. I will 'ave access to many, _many _secrets I am sure 'ermione would love to 'ear." With a sneaky grin and nod, Fleur walked back toward the kitchen. Ron blanched at the good-humored threat.

"You'll tell me anyway, though, right Fleur?" Daphne called out.

Fleur turned back around, winked and held up a finger to her upturned lips.

Daphne noticed that Molly Weasley was very tightly wound; she was so very focused on wedding preparations that it made her wonder if Ron's mum thought it was a necessary distraction to take her mind off of the war. She had only been at the Burrow for a day, and Daphne could feel a combination of tension, excitement, and nervousness, all mixed with something darker, some feeling of _inevitability_.

Shadows would fall over Molly's face whenever she would hear the distant _pop_ of family members Apparating outside the Burrows' wards, or when various members of the Order of the Phoenix would stop by, either for news or for a quick chat to take their minds off of the war surrounding them.

"I think your mum should try something to relax," she said to Ron after her first full day as an official resident of the Burrow.

Ron shrugged and looked befuddled. "I'm open to suggestions, if ya got 'em."

Daphne scrunched up her face. "_Obliviate_ the wedding from her brain?"

"Or Portkey her to a tropical resort?"

"Oooh! A weekend in the countryside?"

"Daphne, we're in the countryside, if you haven't noticed."

"Yeah, yeah," Daphne said with exasperation. She sighed. "She's gonna run herself into the ground if she keeps going like this. Just because she's planning this wedding doesn't mean the war has suddenly stopped."

At this, Ron shifted uncomfortably. "Actually, I think she's more _nervous_ about Harry and Hermione and me and what we might do after the summer's over, or after the wedding, even."

Daphne turned to Ron, her brows furrowed. "What d'you mean?"

"We're not going back to Hogwarts."

Daphne's face fell. "Wh-what? _What_?! What do you mean, 'not going back to Hogwarts'?"

"Well, when I say 'not', it's the opposite of 'going _to_ _go_ back'—"

She rolled her eyes. "_Why_ aren't you going back?" Daphne huffed.

"We've got to do something, something that Dumbledore wanted Harry to do, something that needs to be done before, you know . . ." Ron trailed off, gesturing with his hands as if silently continuing the sentence.

Daphne regarded him carefully. "This has to do with his lessons last year, doesn't it?"

Ron nodded. "I can't tell you more than that, though."

"Your mum knows?"

He shook his head while shrugging his shoulders. "Dunno, really. I think she suspects something." Ron snorted. "Somehow, she _always_ knows what's going on."

"So you're just not going back, then? Even Hermione?"

Ron nodded again. "She's taking care of her family, making arrangements for them to be safe while we're gone. And I'm actually working on an idea to cover my prolonged absence from Hogwarts, so no one'll get suspicious."

Daphne raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to turn your tongue into lead. Permanently."

She snorted. "Seriously Slytherin there, Weasley." And Daphne gently nudged him with her arm.

Ron smirked. "I remember a time when I would've been completely offended by that remark."

"And now?"

Ron smiled and shook his head. "As long as it's coming from you, I'll take it as a compliment."

And they smiled and chatted and teased each other to take their minds off of much darker things.

There was no denying that the Burrow was alive and kicking and breathing, but Daphne found that it was more comforting than not. She realized, after a couple of days, that slipping into a routine of flipping through past copies of _Witch Weekly's Weddings_, writing down suggestions for the celebration, and listening to the many details that still had to be planned pushed out the other negative, nasty thoughts that would try to sneak back into her mind.

Her first weekend with the Weasleys had arrived. Daphne found herself sitting with Arthur at the dining table.

Ron's father had a most serious expression on his face.

"Daphne, I wanted to ask you something, and I need your complete honesty about this matter. Did you visit a shop on Berwick Street in Muggle London some time last week?"

Daphne felt all the color drain from her face. She stammered, "Um, er . . . okay, well, the thing with that, Mr. Weasley—"

Arthur raised his hand. "I'll take that as a yes." He turned and looked at her sternly. "We do not tolerate behavior such as stealing and performing risky Memory or Confundus Charms on Muggles in our house to steal merchandise from stores, Daphne."

Daphne pursed her lips together, refraining from saying, "Oh, but _Dumbledore _can practically _Imperio_ people to get his way!"

Instead, Daphne mumbled, "Butdumbledorecan."

Arthur leaned forward. "I'm sorry, Daphne. What was that?"

"But _Dumbledore_ did it to force you to take me in. He did it to get _his_ way!" Daphne heard the harsh, bitter edge of her voice. She'd been backed into a corner by this . . . this . . . _man, _and he was condemning her for doing what that old bastard had done to her Muggle caseworkers.

Arthur coughed into his hand, and Daphne saw what looked like a smile starting to curl the edges of his mouth. "Well, I'll admit that Dumbledore probably didn't use the most _ethical_ of methods to make sure you would have a home and that you would be protected while you finished up at Hogwarts, _but_," Arthur said, leaning forward to make sure Daphne had his full attention, "_I_ do not condone using magic on Muggles to steal. I do not allow my children to do that—"

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not your child," Daphne muttered.

_Almost_ inaudibly.

_**SMACK**_**!**

Daphne jumped as she heard Arthur's hand hit the table with a tremendous amount of force. She quailed at the look on his face.

"Daphne, it is _not _in my nature to lose my temper with my children." Arthur spoke in a measured tone. "I do not spank my children. I do not yell at them. However, I _cannot_ nor _will not _allow using magic on Muggles, stealing things from Muggles, or any other witch or wizard, or any other disrespectful behavior in this house. Particularly now, with everything going on in the world, and everything going on immediately around us. The Ministry's power is tenuous at best; there is no telling if or when it might fall, and I do not want to draw any further attention to our home or family than is necessary."

Daphne's mouth fell open. Never had she heard Arthur Weasley talk like this.

(_Great Merlin's Ghost! He can be scary when he's like this!_)

"We care about you, Daphne. We care about your well-being. And _not_ because Dumbledore asked us to. We honestly, truly, and wholeheartedly want you to be here, to feel like you're a part of our family. But, I can't force you to want to be here. The only thing Molly and I can do is tell you that you will always have a home with us, but there will be rules, there will be obligations, and you _will_ have to obey them." Arthur peered at her, stern and serious.

All Daphne could do was look at him, moving her mouth up and down, without a sound.

"Can you answer me? Can you let me know you understand?"

Daphne, still shocked into complete silence, could only make herself nod very, _very_ slowly.

She watched as Arthur's face returned to its normal, kindly appearance. "I'm glad we could reach an understanding, Daphne. Now," he said, rubbing his hands together, "down to business. I was able to intervene with the M.L.E.s once it became known that _someone _had performed magic on the Muggle clerk working there. A young man named Jay."

If Daphne slunk any further in her chair, she was certain she'd slide right out of it.

"Nobody will be pressing charges against you, Daphne, even though they'd be well in their rights to. Instead, you will pay off the amount of the merchandise you took in Muggle Pounds. Bill's already figured that the three musical items that you took, as well as the Muggle music contraption that you also stole comes to approximately seventy-five pounds."

"Crap," she muttered.

"And Ron also said you might owe some money to a few people from school."

At this, Daphne looked at Arthur, her lip curled in apparent disbelief. "_What_? Why the bloody hell would Ron say that? I don't owe _anything _to _anybody_!"

She hoped Arthur wouldn't see through the indignant tone of her voice.

Arthur gave her a look that told Daphne he didn't believe her for one second.

"Have you ever had a job, Daphne?"

She groaned audibly.

"Fantastic!" Arthur said, with a horribly enthusiastic look on his face. "It looks like today's your lucky day! There's a flourishing shop in Diagon Alley that is in desperate need of warm bodies to help with sales." To Daphne's great disgust, Arthur gave her a great, big, cheerful wink. "Fortunately, the shop owners owe me a . . . well, let's just say I've given them a great deal of things over the years—"

"Like endless patience," said a voice to Daphne's left, "right, George?"

"Personally, Fred," came the reply from Daphne's right, "I was going to say his fatherly love."

"Not to mention a surplus of charm—"

"And intelligence, Fred! Oh, and our _dashing _good looks!"

"We owe you so much, our dear, beloved Father!" George put his hand over his heart.

Daphne groaned and slouched even further into her chair.

"Greengrass! You're less a witch, and more a—"

"Wet noodle, right, brother of mine?"

Fred snapped his fingers decisively. "Right-o, George!"

"You _can't _be serious?!" Daphne exclaimed to Arthur Weasley. "I can't work with these . . . these—"

"What's that, Greengrass?" Fred leaned toward her from her left. Daphne looked at Fred, and snapped her head around . . . only to face George who was leaning in, smirking in her face.

"_Clowns_!" Daphne exclaimed, holding out her hands desperately to Arthur.

"Oh, Daphne," George said smugly, "I'll have you know these '_clowns'_ are currently the owners of the top retail business in Diagon Alley these days."

"Apparently, in dark times like these," Fred said with a Cheshire Cat-worthy grin, "people still need the funny!"

George nudged at her with his elbow. "Wouldn't you want to help out with that, Greengrass?"

"Do it for them!" said Fred.

"Do it for _you_!" George replied.

The twins looked at each other, smiling and wriggling their brows.

"Do it for your country, Daphne Greengrass!" they exclaimed in unison.

And again, Daphne groaned and flopped forward, dropping her head into her folded arms resting on the Weasleys' dining table.

"Somebody . . . _please _release me from the misery of my existence!" Daphne pleaded with a muffled voice.

To her annoyance, the only sound she could hear was Arthur Weasley chuckling in response.

* * *


	5. Chapter 4: Hermione’s Arrival

**A/N:** Rated T for some strong language. Snippets of dialogue from _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_.

Beta'd by stella8h8chang (thank you!) I own nothing.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Hermione's Arrival**

"Look here, you thieving toad, I _saw _you grab those Snackboxes with those sticky fingers of yours!"

Daphne Greengrass waved her finger in front of the young boy and glowered at him. He looked at her, his expression just as dark.

"Y'know, you're a real bitch—"

"You - little - _f__art_! Have you ever been on the receiving end of a Bludgeoning Hex?" She grabbed his arm roughly and gave him a shake.

"Ohh-_kay_!" A deep, booming voice bellowed from behind Daphne. She turned her head, almost snapping her neck right in half; Bill Weasley strode up behind her with a puzzled look on his face.

"Daphne, what's going on here?"

"I saw this little _shit _— _OW!_"

The "fart" had just delivered a swift kick to Daphne's shin and bolted past her.

"Hey! Come back here and pay for your crap!"

"Okay, that's it!" Fred Weasley turned toward Daphne as George and Bill moved to stop the kid from exiting the shop with the pilfered merchandise. "Greengrass, if you're gonna work here—"

"Which wasn't _my_ decision, _Twin_!"

"—You're gonna bloody well learn the finer details of customer service!"

"Or what?" Daphne crossed her arms in a defiant manner and glared at her new boss.

"Or George and I will make you our _very_ special test subject for our Uber-Uglyfing Sweets." Fred looked at her, the threat clearly confirmed with his slanted eyes. "Or whatever Wheeze combination that will cause the most pain!"

Daphne let out a stream of very creative expletives aimed at Fred, many of which involved him doing some very obscene things to a hag and, quite possibly, a hippogriff.

"Oh yeah?" Fred shot back.

"Yeah! And I hope it bites your Knut and Sickles off!"

"Hey," Bill huffed and jogged toward his brother and the surly new employee of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, " George is dealing with that kid, who, by the way, was trying to pocket half-a-shelf's worth of Skiving Snackboxes,"

"_See_?!" Daphne smacked Fred across his chest. "I was right, you . . . you . . . _nincompoop_!"

"_OW_-_ch_!" Fred exclaimed with a scowl and rubbed his stricken chest. "Rule number one, Greengrass. You don't hit your boss."

"You're like two years older than me!"

"And I — along with _that _bloke over there," Fred gestured angrily at his twin brother, "pay _your _wages, no matter that we're two years older than you! So you'll come into this shop, plaster a smile on your face, and _stop physically_ _assaulting the_ _customers_, even ones who steal from our shop!"

"_Idiot_," Daphne muttered.

"Who _pays_ you," Fred sneered, hands on his hips.

Daphne turned around to fume.

"So, I guess things are going well, eh?' Bill said, smirking and smacking his hands together to get their attention.

"Oh, it's just _fuck-_ing _brilliant!_" Fred roared sarcastically. "Apparently, Slytherin House teaches _all _the little snakes exactly how to excel at customer service! Bumper crop of retail workers this year, lemme tell ya!" Fred looked at Daphne furiously.

"_I — was — right!_" Daphne hissed through her teeth.

"Time out." Bill held his hand up in a "T" gesture. "Fred, I'm going to take Daphne back to the Burrow. I take it you and George can handle things here."

"Oh, we'll be _fine_! Just _dandy_!" George exclaimed angrily as he came up behind Bill. "Fred, I got the merchandise back from that kid, and cast a Pilfering Prevention Jinx on him, so he'll think twice about shoplifting anywhere. Bill?" George asked, addressing the eldest Weasley brother.

"Yeah?"

"Seriously, feel free to chuck this one," George glared and pointed at Daphne, "right into Knockturn Alley, preferably into some Death Eater-y nest."

She glared right back at him. "I. _Was_. _RIGHT!_"

"Oh, it only took you threatening _ten_ other customers with bodily harm before you got _the_ _one_ that was actually shoplifting!" George rubbed at the bridge of his nose and let out a breath. "Favorfordadfavorfordadfavorfordad--"

Bill nudged Daphne, a very Ron-like lopsided grin growing on his face. "Thanks so much for this!"

Daphne looked at Bill as if he had just spoken Gobbledegook. "Whaddya mean, 'thanks'?"

"You've managed to do the one thing the entire Weasley family's never been able to do. You've broken the twins!" Bill gave Daphne a huge smile.

"Oh, sod off, you prat!" Fred swatted him in the chest, but his humor was starting to return to his voice.

Bill snorted but continued to grin. "Daphne, we've gotta get you back to the Burrow." Bill turned back to Fred and George. "You two coming over for dinner? Y'know Mum's got a roast going . . . well, so says Dad." Bill gave a small wink to his brothers.

Fred and George looked at each other, and then looked at Daphne simultaneously; they narrowed their eyes mischievously. "We're there," they said together.

"And . . . we _might_ come with gifts, _Greengrass_," Fred said with a troubling grin and cocked eyebrow.

"Ones that _bite_!" George finished.

"Oooh! I'm quivering in my trainers," Daphne said, with a sarcastically frightened expression. She whipped off her work apron and doffed it onto the counter. She turned away from the twins and followed Bill out of the shop, but not before her stomach did a nasty somersault.

Which happened anytime she set foot onto Diagon Alley these days.

Bill and Daphne started walking toward the Apparition Point. Daphne made a point to keep her eyes planted firmly ahead of her or on Bill or Arthur or on whomever traveled back with her to the Weasleys' home. Keeping her eyes focused ahead of her forced Daphne to not look at the wood covering the shops' windows, the scorched and burned façades from what looked like small, magically cast fires, magical graffiti cast upon the planks of wood, flashing different variations of the same thing: "DIE MUDBLOODS DIE!" "NO PLACE FOR MUDBLOODS!" "MUDBLOODS GO—"

"Did you know that Fleur really likes you?"

Daphne snapped out of her reverie. "What? Who?"

"_Fleur_, you know, or, as _Gingersnap_ likes to call her . . . 'Phlegm'."

"_Oh_," Daphne said, in between a couple of awkward coughs. "Well, I'm glad. Fleur's got taste." She gestured toward him and gave Bill a small grin.

"You _might_ be right about that," Bill said mildly. He scratched at a couple of the scars on his face, and Daphne watched his face fall just a little bit. "She really would like to be there for you more," he continued after a couple of seconds. "Actually, she'd like to be there for you and Ginny and Hermione."

Daphne snorted. "Dunno what she could've done for me, other than listen to me bitch about last year."

"I don't think she would've minded that at all. She said you were a good listener and you were there for her when she needed to talk to someone. She would've returned the favor for you." Bill stopped walking just before they reached the Apparition point in Diagon Alley. He turned toward Daphne, and spoke with a gentle smile on his face. "You shouldn't ever feel like you can't come to any one of us if you need something, even if it's just to talk."

Daphne raised her brow with a humorous, disbelieving expression. "Does that include Fred and George too?"

Bill snorted. "Fair point. But you do know you can always start with Ron, Fleur or Mum."

Daphne cocked her head; her eyebrows drew together. "You seem to be doing all right for a bloke whose . . . whose . . . er, whose—"

"For a bloke whose face's been half-eaten, you mean?"

Daphne blanched. "Erm . . . I – I didn't . . . it wasn't . . . _shit_!'

Bill held up his hand to stop Daphne's spluttering. "You don't grow up a Weasley without developing a rather wonky sense of humor about things." He shrugged. "I might not have the _exact _same face that I had before, but my family's all here, and I'm marrying the absolute, most beautiful and brilliant girl I've ever met, objectively speaking, of course." Bill smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He turned back to her, still with a small grin on his face, but Daphne couldn't see too much amusement behind it. "I'm okay with the little bit of flesh lost during battle."

The Slytherin shook her head. "Bill . . . y'know if I had," Daphne lowered her head and cleared her throat. "If I had worked harder, l-last year—"

"No."

Daphne's head shot up. "What do you mean 'no'?"

Bill gave her a stern look. "I know what you're going to say, because I've had this conversation with Ron already. It's no one's fault. _No one's_. You can't, shouldn't, and _won't_ keep beating yourself up about this. The only one, the absolute _only one_ whose fault this is _is _Greyback's. Period."

"I still feel—"

Bill shook his head. "_Don't_. Daphne, I'm telling you it's not your fault, and Fleur and I want you to feel accepted and wanted with our family, okay?" He brought them over to the Apparition Point. "Hey, I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Let's head on back to the Burrow, eh?"

Daphne looked at Bill's smiling face. Shaking her head at the eldest Weasley son and speculating as to how this family managed to be so completely barmy and wonderful at the same time, she took Bill's arm and Side-Along Apparated back home.

* * *

"_RON! I can't believe you!_" Ginny bellowed at her older brother from the doorway to his bedroom.

"_Ginny_," came a mocking tone in response, "_I – can't – BELIEVE – you!_"

"_Ronald_ _Bilius_!"

"_Ginebra_ _Mobby Memememe_!" Ron said childishly.

"AARGH!" Ginny ran toward her room to grab her wand.

(_I'm gonna throw him the _worst _Boiling Blister Hex!_)

(_I'll give him boiling blisters all over his behind so bad he'll —_)

Unfortunately, Ron's very long legs allowed him to overtake her in the race to get to her wand. He held it high above his head; no amount of jumping would be enough for her to reach it.

"_Give_. _It_. _Here_. _WEASLEY_!"

"Like I'm gonna give you the means to wreck havoc on my body," Ron said sarcastically.

"YOU were the last bloody male to use the toilet in this house! _YOU_ didn't put the bloody seat back down. I fell in!"

"Hark, whose fault is it that you didn't look first before you sat—"

"YOU ALSO FORGOT TO _FLUSH _THE DAMN THING! My bum's all nasty and wet and . . . well, Godric knows what else!" Ginny gave a disgusted shiver. "It's so — so _gross_!"

Ron snorted and sniggered at the same time.

"What the hell are you laughing about?" Ginny asked, narrowing her eyes and fisting her hands on her hips.

"Ya got piss all over your bum!" And Ron doubled over in laughter.

"Oh that's _it_!" Ginny hurtled toward Ron, her fists cuffing him right in the arm and chest area.

"Hey! HEY! _OW_!" Ron said, ducking and running out of Ginny's room, her wand still firmly in his hand. The siblings stampeded down the stairs, shouting, wailing and punching at each other.

(_Have to get my stupid wand!_)

"Give it up, you dungbomb!"

"Never, _Gin_! You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers," Ron huffed as she continued to beat away at him.

"Oh, _don't _think I won't try—"

"_Ron_! _Ginny_! I swear, the two of you act like a couple of seven-year-olds instead of the _seventeen_-year-olds that your birth certificates claim you are."

The youngest Weasleys stopped their wrestling match as soon as they heard the not-too-dulcet tones of their mum.

"MUM! Ron didn't put the toilet seat down—"

"The brat's complaining and all she had to do was look behind her to see if her porcelain throne was ready for her behind—"

"—which is _disgustingly _drenched, I might add!"

"_En_-nough!" Molly exclaimed, sweeping her hands in front of her chest in a final manner. She was clearly finished with Ginny and Ron's bickering, and they knew it.

Both Weasleys shut up, and Ron put both wands behind his back, where Ginny promptly snatched hers out of his grasp.

"_Oi_!"

"It's _my _wand, Ron," Ginny seethed.

"So long as you don't hex me, _Ginevra_," Ron sneered back at her.

A loud _POP_ tore through the air of the Burrow.

Ginny instantly recognized the sound of somebody Apparating outside the wards of the Burrow.

Molly gave a little jump, and hurried with soft steps toward the door, glancing quickly at their family clock, letting out a breath.

Ron and Ginny suddenly tensed up, their hands squeezing the hilts of their wands. They were prepared for whatever it was just outside . . . walking on the soft grass . . . stepping on the old wood boards . . . steps creaking . . . approaching the door—

"Molly, it's Arthur, with the _precious cargo_. What do you like to call me when we're alone together?"

Ron and Ginny chortled and fell into coughs to cover up their amusement when their mum blushed.

"Mollywobbles, Arthur," their mum mumbled.

"Yes, dear. Now, ask me my question."

"What is your greatest ambition?"

"To find out how airplanes stay up in the air," Arthur Weasley replied. With a satisfied nod, Molly opened the door.

She hugged her husband tightly and gave him a quick, but loving, kiss on the lips.

"Bill's on his way with Daphne and he'll go back to pick up Fleur from Gringotts. Lupin, Tonks and Moody are on their way to the Heathrow Aerial-port—"

"You saw them off, all right then, Dad?' Ron asked anxiously and he stepped forward.

Arthur nodded. "Don't worry, Ron. We made sure to get Mr. and Mrs. Graham and Helen _Chapman_ off to their new home in Australia to keep them safe and sound." Arthur's face then fell into a soft smile with a hint of sadness. "And we are now entrusted with their most sacred possession." Arthur gestured toward the open door — at the same moment an orange cat with a squished-up face jumped over the threshold.

"Crookshanks!" Ginny reached down to scratch the cat behind its ears. She felt Ron run outside the door.

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. Ginny looked up to see her brother grasping and lifting Hermione off of her feet. She had her face buried in his shoulder and her arms wrapped around his neck. When they finally pulled apart, Ginny could see Ron bent over, his forehead touching Hermione's.

Neither moved.

Neither spoke.

Neither seemed to breathe.

It was Molly who broke the silence.

"Hermione, dear, come inside and have some hot cocoa and a bite. I'm sure you're famished." Molly put a hand on Hermione's back and guided her into the house. Ron followed her inside and took the nearest seat to her at the table.

It was the first time Ginny had been able to get a good look at Hermione. Her cheeks were red and blotchy and the whites of her eyes were almost as red as the rest of her face. She was breathing in a halted manner. Ginny reached out to grasp her left hand.

"Hermione, I . . . I'm sorry. About your family. They'll be all right, y'know? You'll see them again."

Hermione wiped at her eyes and smiled weakly at Ginny. "Th-they'll be safe. I know they'll at least b-be safe getting to the air- . . . airport." She sniffled and her brow and chin wrinkled as Hermione tried to stem a new wave of tears. Ron reached over to rub her back and Molly placed the mug of steaming chocolate in front of her. Hermione inhaled deeply as she accepted the offering.

"Um, Mrs. W-Weasley," Hermione stammered.

"Dear, please. Call me Molly."

Hermione smiled sadly, although her face was red and streaky and her eyes were undeniably moist. "M-m-molly, would you mind if I took my trunk up to Ginny's room? I'd like to g-get s-settled . . ." a soft gurgle escaped her throat, heralding more tears.

Ron and Ginny both shot up out of their seats at the same time. "We'll help!"

Hermione gave a small, wet chuckle. "I'd like that, thanks."

Another loud _POP _startled the group huddled in the Weasleys' kitchen. Arthur approached the door.

A collective sigh was released once they heard Bill's deep voice resonate through the wood, answering his father's questions and asking his own.

"Hey, Hermione," Bill said, as he entered into the Burrow with Daphne in tow. "Daphne, I'll leave you with Mum and Dad. I'm going back to pick up Fleur for dinner, Mum. She had to finish up something with work."

Molly nodded and strode forward to her eldest son. She grasped his face firmly and brought his head down to her face and kissed him on both cheeks.

"Be careful, please." Molly gave him a couple of motherly pats. There was no mistaking the worry in her eyes.

Bill chuckled softly. "Mum, I'll be gone for less than thirty minutes. Don't worry."

Molly's chin trembled a little bit. "Dear, I'll always worry. It wouldn't matter if you're gone for five seconds or five hours. These are dangerous times, Bill. I'll worry no matter what."

The small gap of silence was broken as Arthur approached Bill and patted his shoulders. "Son, why don't I go with you to pick up Fleur? I could do with a quick inquiry at Gringotts about our vault."

Bill shook his head. "Seriously, you don't have to--"

Arthur waved his hand dismissively. "We can catch up, and I can give you some long-awaited marriage advice." Arthur touched the tip of his nose with a long finger and winked at Bill, who rolled his eyes at his dad in defeat. Arthur took his son by the shoulders once again and, after some goodbyes, steered him outside of the house to Apparate outside of the Burrow's wards.

"Hermione, how are—" the words died on Daphne's lips as she got a better look at the girl, who clearly wasn't all right.

"Hello Daphne. We were just going up to Ginny's room. Come up with us?" Hermione's voice sounded strained and muffled and Ginny noticed Daphne wince sympathetically at the sad tone of Hermione's voice.

As soon as the three teens reached Ginny's room, they shut the door. Ron cast the Muffliato Charm to prevent his mum from eavesdropping.

Hermione sat down on Ron's bed and let her head fall into her hands. Ron, Ginny and Daphne waited for a few moments for Hermione to compose herself.

Taking a few deep breaths, the smartest witch of her year lifted her head, blinked and looked at them.

"I'm s-sorry about that. About losing it like I did downstairs."

"Hermione," Ron said; he sat next to her and put an arm around her. "You've got nothing to apologize for. You did something incredible for your parents. They'll be safe thanks to you and to the guards that'll be watching out for them."

"I hope," Hermione said, her voice thick and distant, and her eyes staring at some fixed point across the room, "I hope that no one suspects that they're using aliases. Graham and Helen Chapman," She grinned lopsidedly, and Ginny and Daphne found seats on the floor in front of her. "Dad loves Monty Python," Hermione started. Daphne chuckled.

"Daphne, you're a Monty Python fan?"

Daphne cleared her throat and a huge smile spreading across her face. "_Your faaa-ther was a hamster, and your mother smelt OF ELDERBERRIES_!" She spoke with an overly-affected French accent and she finished with a haughty pout.

Hermione giggled. "_Oh, but you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just because some watery tart threw a sword at you_. _Help! Help! I'm being repressed!_" she exclaimed; her voice still sounded thick, but she couldn't keep herself from laughing.

"Er, what?" Ron asked, although he was smiling at Hermione's ever-increasing glee.

Hermione chuckled. "Monty Python is a Muggle comedy troupe. They're _everywhere_ in Muggle Britain: on the telly, in the movies, in books . . ." She looked at Ron and smiled and put her hand on his cheek. "One day, when this is all over, I'll make sure you and your family watch the movie where they act as King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table and search for the Holy Grail." She winked at him, "They even have some wizards in the movie."

"Well, I should hope so! What would Arthur be without Merlin?" Ron responded. Daphne held back a snort.

Hermione sighed. "I thought it'd be nice to name Dad after his favorite member of Monty Python, so Graham Chapman it was." Hermione's face fell and she picked at the hem of her blouse. "I chose 'Helen' for Mum because she _loves_ watching 'Prime Suspect'." Hermione looked off into the distance. "Helen Mirren. She plays Jane Tennison on that show. Mum loves her acting. She loves that program so much . . . She loves mysteries, Mum does." Hermione's eyes passed over the other occupants of the room. "They don't know anyone in Australia. No one would know who they really are."

Hermione paused and swallowed. "It's silly of me, right? It's just names, you know? Just names of a couple of entertainers that Mum and Dad like. I don't know why I'm putting so much thought and worry into something so trivial—"

"No more trivial than me singing Beatles songs or Rolling Stones songs or John Lennon or Zeppelin or The Who whenever things get really bad, or whenever things out there," Daphne nodded toward the window, "get really dark and dangerous and it looks like Voldemort has the upper hand." She turned back to the others. "It's what we do. We cling to the things that make us happy when times are dark. Hermione, you were giving your parents something they love that they _could_ take with them. If you couldn't be there with them, they'll have a small bit of their old life wherever they are in Australia."

The other teens looked at Daphne with rather surprised expressions.

"Wh- . . . er, was it something I said?"

"No, it's just . . . that was . . ." Hermione stopped and got up off the bed. She walked over to Daphne and gave her a hug, which Daphne clumsily returned.

"That was really, really nice," Hermione said as she continued to hug her.

After a couple of beats, Daphne coughed awkwardly. "Er, Hermione," she said as Hermione continued to hug her, "how much longer are you gonna go on with this?"

Hermione broke apart from Daphne and regarded her carefully. "Honestly, a good hug between friends isn't a bad thing. You should get used to it, particularly if you're staying with the most physically demonstrative family I have ever known."

Ginny nodded. "Yup! Don't expect to go a day around here without being squished by Mum. She has a compulsive need to squeeze the life out of every one of us."

"Yeah, I figured that after seeing the little display with Bill downstairs," Daphne said, chuckling. "It's . . . I've never, well, I mean . . ." she stuttered, "I'm just not used to this, is all."

Ron smiled at her. "Well, it's high time you did get used to it. Living here with us means you're as good as family!"

Daphne smirked. "I guess so."


	6. Chapter 5: A Plan For Potter

**A/N: **A big cyber-hug for all the reviewers, alerters, and favoriters for this story and my work. I really appreciate all the feedback and support and reviews!

Oh, and if you enjoy this work, feel free to check out my "_**A Second Thought**_" series of one-shots that are part of the sixth year story. I'm gearing up to add more one-shots to the series, I've just got to write them out. If you haven't read them yet, check out Draco Malfoy's, Pansy Parkinson, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Hermione Granger (which serves as a prequel for the series--how Daphne and Hermione met).

Rated T for strong language. I own nothing; thanks to stella8h8chang for all your valuable input and revisions. And please excuse this poorly-written author's note. I got about 2 hours of sleep thanks to the NBA and the Celtics tearing down the Lakers! Need. Coffee. Now.

* * *

**Chapter 5:** **A Plan For Potter**

"Potter's aware that we're coming for him on Saturday, the twenty-seventh, right? If he's not ready to go—"

"Right," Remus Lupin answered Alastor Moody's question. "He knows that we have to retrieve him ahead of his seventeenth birthday; the Death Eaters won't suspect it and we'll be able to take down any sentries that Voldemort may have posted in the area of Little Whinging—"

"Even _more_ reason for him to be prepared for us to retrieve him." Moody interrupted gruffly.

"Moody, don't worry. He will be," Tonks' voice came from the kitchen. "Look, we've gotta recruit thirteen people over the next week. So, instead of huffing and puffing about Potter's readiness, why don't we focus on _that_ small detail?" She smacked the old Auror's cheeks in a playful manner, and Lupin chuckled as Moody tutted at his former protégée.

"She's right, Alastor," Arthur Weasley piped up. "Six 'Harrys' and seven skilled fliers . . . this isn't going to be a small feat."

"_Six Harrys_?" Ron whispered to Hermione, Ginny and Daphne. "What in the name of Merlin's left tit is he on about?" Daphne and Ginny shrugged in confusion and Hermione smacked him across the chest.

"Ow!"

"Stop swearing, Ron!"

The four teenagers were pressed up against the corner of the first flight of stairs, shushing each other and cupping their mouths so no one would notice them eavesdropping on the one meeting that the Order hadn't cast an Imperturbable Charm on. They were finally able to glance around the corner enough to actually see the meeting take place.

"We might," Bill began, in a measured voice, "start with Fred and George. Maybe Lee Jordan and Angelina—"

"Fred and George, fine. Those other two, I don't know 'em, and I'm not about to start trusting Order business to outsiders," Moody replied, as crusty as day-old bread.

"_I _would like to be considered," came Fleur's throaty voice.

"Like _hell_!"

"Beel, I am a good weetch! I can fight—"

"Fleur, there is absolutely _no_ _way_ in any of the five known dimensions that I'm letting you do this. Not with the risks—"

"Oh, _excusé_ _moi_, but raise your hand if _you_ were a Triwizard Champion?!" Fleur spoke in a surprisingly direct and defiant voice; she stuck her hand in the air and looked sharply at the other witches and wizards gathered around the table. Even from a slight distance, the teens could see Bill's reddening face and Lupin and Tonks smirking at the couple. Ron and Ginny suppressed their own smirks.

"Mmm-_hmrphf_! I thought so!" Fleur brought her hand back down and crossed her arms in front of her chest, sitting straight up in a haughty manner.

"_If_ you go, my little _blossom_," Bill responded, still clearly angry with Fleur's persistence, "you'll be with me the whole time. I'll fly you, because you might be good with the spells, but I'm better in the air. _No _arguments," Bill said, pointing at Fleur who had just opened her mouth to argue that very point.

"Fred, George and Fleur. We still need three more Potters." Moody stumped around the table. "Actually, _two _more Potters. I volunteer Dung," Moody growled. "Bastard owes me anyways."

"So, Fred, George, Fleur and Mundungus." Arthur tapped his fingers on the table. "Remus, what about you and Tonks?"

Lupin and Tonks both shook their heads. "We'd be better as fliers," Lupin offered.

"I don't want to toot my own horn," Tonks said, "but I'm a damn fine flier. I'll make sure whoever I take gets back in one piece."

"I hope that goes for you too, my dear," Lupin said, as he took her hand. Tonks' hair, which was already a violent purple, practically exploded into a horribly gaudy fuchsia.

"Damn Metamorphmaging!" Tonks said with an eye roll, and she patted her hair as it changed back to a milder, punky pink.

Arthur chuckled. "Lupin, Tonks, Alastor and myself as fliers—"

"_What_?" came Molly's loud and incredulous voice.

"Uh-oh!" Ron and Ginny gasped. The four teens looked at each other and winced at the thought of the ensuing row between the elder Weasleys.

"Molly—"

"_Arthur_?!"

"Love?"

"Don't you 'Love' me, Arthur! We need you here—"

"And the Order needs him on the twenty-seventh." All heads snapped toward Moody. "He has an assignment. He can-_not_ back away from that."

"Molly, they need me to help retrieve Harry. I have to go. I'm a good flier—"

"Can you guarantee that you'll come back in one piece?" Molly asked her husband, her voice steady, but clearly angry and quivering.

"If I don't, I'm pretty sure you'll kill me."

Molly paused, and she let out a small chuckle. The chuckle turned to laughs all around the room . . . except of course, for Moody, who looked as gruff as ever.

After a couple of moments, Arthur spoke up, "Have we heard from Hagrid?"

Moody nodded. "In."

"All right, so me, you, Lupin, Tonks, Hagrid . . . Bill?"

Bill nodded. "Fleur's in, and so am I. And _I'm_ flying you!" Bill turned to Fleur.

Fleur nodded. "Well, of course you are."

Molly sighed. "I suppose I've got no say about this either."

Bill shook his head. "Mum, she's my wife. I have to do this, if she's bound and determined to go. I was going to be up there anyway, but the only person who takes Fleur'll be me."

"Oh, _Beel_! I do love you!"

Ron, Ginny and Daphne all gagged. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Well, that makes six fliers." Arthur rubbed his chin. "Alastor, I think Kingsley should be included."

Moody gave a nod. "That's it then. We're still missing two more Harrys."

"Ron?" Hermione whispered. Daphne and Ginny looked at him. Ron had pulled away from the group; he was walking toward the Order meeting with deliberate steps.

"Count me in," Ron said in a sharp voice. It was clear he was going to be stubborn; he stood in front of the group, his arms crossed, his chin poking out and his eyes as cool as steel.

"_I DO _NOT_ THINK SO_!" Molly stood in front of her son, her hands on her hips, her eyes focused on her youngest son.

With their red hair and exact same, stubborn expressions, there was no denying Ron was his mum's son, despite whatever the twins had tried to claim in the past.

The three teenage girls gasped.

Hermione was the first to move from behind the wall. "_Ohhh--_"

"Shite," Daphne finished.

"C'mon," Ginny prodded. "Let's go and stand behind the prat."

The girls stood in a small arc behind Ron as he faced off against Molly Weasley.

"If _you_ think I'm going to let my youngest son—"

"I'm _seventeen_," Ron interrupted. "I'm of age! Harry's my best friend," Ron's voice softened. "I need to help with this, Mum. I _need_ to do this!"

"You're still _my_ _baby_!" Molly shouted at him. "I can't let you run off to war already. I can't—"

"I'm going, Mum. With or without your permission. It's my decision, not yours." Ron spoke with such finality that both Daphne and Ginny got goosebumps.

Molly stepped forward, reached up and grabbed her son's face. Her voice was calm but filled with trembling emotion. "The greatest fear that I have as a mother is that I will outlive _any_ _one_ of my children. This is what I feel, every single day, every single hour, every single minute that this war goes on." Molly's eyes swept over his face, and she smoothed down the longer fringes of his hair. "I know that I cannot force you to stay here, but I'm _begging _you, Ron. Stay _here_! Don't go . . ."

"Mum," Bill stepped forward and put his hand on his shoulder. "I'll be there with Ron. So will Dad. So will Fred and George. We're getting Harry well ahead of his seventeenth birthday, so it's highly unlikely they're going to even know that we're moving him. It's only us in here that know, and Hagrid and Kingsley. No one's saying a word." Bill pulled Molly into a one-arm hug. "Mum, we'll all look out for each other."

Molly let loose a loud sniffle. "I know, I know . . . I just thought—" her breath hitched, "I thought I could put off your official entry into the Order for a few more, I don't know. . . . Days. Months. _Y__ears._"

"Mum, I'm already in the fight," Ron said gently. "I've been fighting since I was eleven."

Molly shook her head. "I _know_!" There was a quiet anguish in Molly's whispered exclamation. "I know. I had just hoped . . ." Molly breathed out. "Ron is in, then," she said quietly.

Bill gave her a quick squeeze. "He'll be fine, Mum. We'll all be fine."

"Hey," Ron said, trying to break the tension that had settled around the meeting, "she didn't go into an uproar when you lot volunteered Fred and George for this."

"Oh, you weren't here when they joined the Order. Actually," Bill said with a grimace, "I'm surprised you didn't _hear_ Mum all the way at Hogwarts. She yelled for a good two hours at both of them — _each_!"

Ron cringed and whistled. "Glad I missed that!"

Bill smirked. "Yeah, _and_ she sent them a week's worth of Howlers too."

"Let it never be said that I don't love my children," Molly interjected, with a stern finger waggling at both Bill and Ron.

"Okay, so Ron is in — and you're sure about this, son?" Arthur asked him.

Ron nodded.

Arthur stood up and held out his hand. Ron took it and shook it with a firm grasp. Arthur reached around and patted him on the back.

"And now we need one more—"

"No you don't."

The group turned around and looked at Hermione Granger, who had spoken up as firmly as Ron had.

Ron gaped at her. "Herm—"

"_Don't_!" she said warningly. "You're going? _I'm _going. No. Arguments."

Hermione stood with her arms crossed and glared at Ron.

Surprisingly, Ron backed down.

"Hermione is in," he said, his voice filled with resignation.

Arthur looked at her. "Hermione, are you—"

"I'm absolutely, one-hundred percent sure! Er . . . Mr. Weasley."

Arthur looked at the others, and they all nodded in agreement. "We've got our Harry Potters." He beckoned to Ron and Hermione, and he also gestured to Daphne and Ginny. "All of you should sit down. We're going to go over the plan."

"Arthur!" Molly started, "Ginny shouldn't be here. She's not of age!"

"Mum, this is a plan to retrieve Harry. I've got every _right _to be here. I'm not bothering you to go, but I want to be a part of this plan all the same." Ginny looked at her mum with the same stubborn defiance that defined the very heart of the Weasley women, and the women that the Weasley men so dearly loved.

Molly sighed and set her lips into a firm line. "Fine. I might not like it, but you _are_ going to be here with me to help me out." She turned her resigned eyes toward the other teenager in the room. "Daphne, you can stay as well."

Ginny sat down in a chair next to Hermione. Daphne stood behind her.

Moody glared at Daphne Greengrass, who quailed under his watchful eyes (or . . . well, his glass eye).

(_That thing's inordinately creepy!_)

"We're now letting Slytherins into our meetings, are we? We all know how well that worked out last time. Snape—"

Daphne furrowed her brow. She was just about to talk, when—

"Alastor, she stays," Arthur Weasley spoke up. "She's now a part of this family, and she's going to be here when we bring Harry back to the Burrow. She stays."

"Arthur—" Moody began.

"She _stays. _ _Alastor_," Arthur said sternly. "Dumbledore wanted us to take her in and give her a safe home, and we're doing that. She's one of us, so she shall stay."

Daphne felt a blush spread across her cheeks; she decided the best course of action would be for her to remain quiet and let the adults all hash out whether she would be a part of the meeting or not.

"I theenk Daphne stays," Fleur intoned.

"Hear, hear," Bill said, slapping his hand on the table.

"Moody, I think we should get on with the plan. We might need to do some refinements," Tonks calmly interjected.

"Fine," Moody relented. "The _Slytherin_ girl stays." Never taking his magical eye off of her, Moody walked to the front of the long dining room table.

With his hands resting on the top of his walking stick, and looking out at the members of the Order and the teenagers that had joined the meeting, Moody began his discussion of the plan. "All right, first, you lot need a rudimentary understanding of how and when the protective charm around Potter's house will stop working." Moody shifted his stance a bit. "This particular charm went into effect the moment Lily Potter's blood relative agreed to provide a _home_ for Harry. It was no matter that they mistreated him while he lived on Privet Drive; she allowed him to stay with her family and to call Privet Drive home. This fact, following Lily Potter's sacrificing herself to save Harry, has kept him and his uncle, aunt and cousin under the charm all these seventeen years."

Here, Moody coughed; spittle flew this way and that. "This charm stays in effect until one of two conditions have passed: one," Moody held his index finger up, "he turns seventeen, or two," and he held up a second finger, "he and his uncle, aunt and cousin all leave the house, in concert, with the mental intention to never return. _Ever_. _Again_." Moody's glass eye looked at the faces of each person crammed into the Burrow's downstairs area, making sure that he had their attention.

"So, keeping the latter in mind, here's the plan. As soon as Potter's aunt and uncle are moved to their safe location, we will meet up with the boy. The twins, Weasley, Granger, Miss Delacour, and Mundungus will take the Polyjuice Potion to change into Potter, and the seven designated fliers — that would be me, Arthur, Shacklebolt, Lupin, Tonks, Bill, and Hagrid—will take their assigned Potter to designated locations."

Moody stumped around the table and continued to talk. "Now I have several stocks of Polyjuice Potion ready to go; all that's missing'll be a bit of Potter. He'll need to give us his hairs—"

Ron snorted. "Oh, he'll _love _that."

Hermione nodded. "Harry's not going to go for this. He'll think it's too risky, and he won't want to put any one of us in danger—"

Moody puffed out his cheeks. "Well, he'll just hafta deal with it! We'll _force _him if we have to!"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other and sniggered.

"I'm serious!" Moody barked. "I know how to use the Imperius Curse, and I'm not afraid to Imperius Potter to give us his hair! No matter if that arsehole Crouch used it on me. Desperate times call for _desperate measures_!"

"_Oh_-kay!" Tonks clapped her hands together. "I think it's safe to say that your point is taken. Next item of business?"

"We'll have different modes of transportation—"

"Um, Moody," Bill interrupted, "why not have all of us use brooms? They're the quickest mode of transport—"

"Because we have to work under the assumption that Snape told Voldemort _everything_ about Potter, and his talent with riding a broomstick. Voldemort'll be focused on any Potter that's on a broom. And I say it's very likely he'll be focused on any Auror that'll be traveling by broom." Moody's eye swiveled around the room. "So, to continue . . . we'll be flying to seven separate safe houses, all with connections to Molly and Arthur or the Order itself."

At this, Ron, Ginny and Bill looked at each other.

"When you say _connections _to Mum and Dad, Moody—"

"D'you mean, connected somewhere near the Burrow?" asked Ron, finishing Bill's thought.

"A _family_ connection?" Ginny added.

Moody nodded . . . and a collective groan emitted from the three Weasley siblings.

"Auntie _Muriel_!" Bill, Ron and Ginny spoke in unison, desperation evident in their voices.

"_Hush_!" Molly chastised them. "Be grateful that she has offered us her home for this mission."

"Well, now I'm glad I'm not going," Ginny said. "She'd tell me the entire time that I've got big arms and that she's scared that I'm turning into some roaring lesbian!"

Tonks howled in laughter. "A _lesbian_? You serious?"

Ginny nodded and rolled her eyes. "Apparently, ladies that choose to be interested in a _manly_ _sport_ like Quidditch can't also be interested in the opposite sex. She's so backward."

"She's from a different generation, Ginny." Molly tried defending her aunt, but her words were lost in a sea of snickering and chit-chat.

"_Back_ . . . to the matters at hand," Moody roared. "Seven safe houses, and each house will have a Portkey to the Burrow. We'll designate specific times for the Portkeys to transport all the parties. We can't have it look like a massive transportation convergence upon the Burrow. Would draw too much suspicion."

There was a beat or two of silence as each individual soaked in the plan.

Tonks was the first to speak up.

"Piece of cake, eh?"

Lupin looked at her. "There are so many, many things that you are, Dora, and Queen of the Understatement is definitely _not _one of them." She narrowed her eyes and smirked at her new husband, playfully hitting him with her arm.

"Alastor, we need to decide how many brooms we need, and what else are we going to use?" asked Arthur.

"Four brooms. And we need three more flying objects."

"Carpets are unreliable, not to mention illegal," Arthur responded.

"Hmm . . . Hagrid maintains the only herd of domesticated Thestrals in all of England," Lupin spoke up. "Ask him if we can use three Thestrals."

Moody shook his head. "_Two_ Thestrals . . . we need to find a mode of magical transportation for the _real_ Harry that's both powerful _and_ accurate. Can't be a broom—"

"Er," Arthur said sheepishly, "I . . . well, erm . . . I have a possible thingy that we might be able to use."

"Arthur?" Molly asked, her voice filled with suspicion. "What do you mean _thingy_?"

Arthur winced and flashed his wife a very awkward smile. "Well, I've sort of been meaning to tell you, er . . . Molly . . . you who are the love of my life, my little _Mollycobbler_ . . . Molly-Dolly." The last word came out as little more than a squeak. The Weasley kids that were in the room all looked at each other and made gagging faces and rolled their eyes at their dad.

"_What_. Do. You. _Have_ . . . oh darling _husband _of mine," Molly stared at Arthur, her eyes narrowing in a sign that meant danger.

Arthur let out a great big sigh and motioned for everyone to follow him out to his shed.

Once they got out to Arthur's Muggle sanctuary, he stopped them just before he opened the door.

"All right, Molly. Now, before you start yelling at me, just remember that we've been together and married for decades, and I love you more with each and every year—"

"_Arthur_. _Weasley_. Open this door. _N__ow_!"

Closing his eyes and squishing his face, Arthur opened the shed door and walked into the middle of the workspace. Stopping next to a very large object covered in a gray blanket, he took one more look at his wife, and forced a huge, toothy, nervous smile onto his face.

Molly looked back at him, her nostrils flaring and her arms crossed.

Exhaling and gathering his resolve, Arthur took a handful of blanket and pulled it off the mysterious object.

"_Whoa_!" Ron exclaimed breathlessly.

"Dad . . . this is amazing," Bill whispered reverently. He touched the chrome hubcap of the motorbike that now stood, uncovered in all of its rugged, Muggle glory.

"_Merlin_!" Lupin stepped forward, out of Tonks' arms. He looked up and down, all along the bike, a smile of disbelief twitching upon his lips. His hand shook as he reached out to touch the leather seat, and chrome handlebars. He bent down to look at the gears and touched the sidecar. He caught a glimpse of his face in the chrome and he reached out and gently touched his reflection.

Everyone stood silent, enraptured by Lupin's awed reaction to the vehicle.

"Arthur," he asked, his eyes glistening, "h-how?"

"Hagrid had it this entire time," Arthur said with a smile, "just before he left to find the tribes of Giants in Europe, he left this in my care and asked if I could make modifications to it. I-I should have told you, Remus. I'm sorry . . ."

"No," Lupin said breathlessly. "D-don't be sorry, Arthur." Lupin looked at the others, some of whom had confused expressions. "Um, this is S-Sirius' motorbike," he said, smiling sadly. "I would recognize it, well, _anywhere_. Even after all of these years." Lupin looked down at the bike and his chin trembled. "The last I remember of this was that night . . . Hagrid brought Harry to Privet Drive . . ." Lupin spoke softly, more to himself than anyone else.

Tonks stepped away from the others, and walked over to stand by Lupin. She put a hand and her lips on his shoulder and leaned into his back; Lupin took her hand in his own and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Well, that's it then," said Moody, but in a tone less gruff than usual. "We'll use the motorbike to pick up Harry."

There were nods of agreement, but no one else spoke up. Lupin and Tonks continued to stand together next to Sirius' motorbike.

Molly gave a small cough. "Why don't we go ahead and get back to the house for a spot of lunch. We all must be famished."

Molly and Arthur walked behind the group, separating them from the newlyweds still standing, wrapped up in each other next to the machine.

As Ginny and Daphne both looked over their shoulders, they happened to see Lupin lean down and kiss the palm of Tonks' hand.

And they watched as Tonks' hair colored to a blazing shade of passionate red.


	7. Chapter 6: Waiting in the Wings

**A/N**: I've read a number of stories where the Weasleys' shop's door makes a noise similar to certain functions of the human body. I think one story that comes immediately to mind is _**Burning Down the House **_by little0bird. That's where the inspiration for the doorbell comes from. And I do believe the Salem Institute for Witches was mentioned in _**Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire**_; a very similar institution is featured in JJ Rust's _**Air of Disharmony**__._ I highly recommend both stories; they're in my favorites.

Rated T for strong language. I own nothing. Stella8h8chang — a big thank you for your revisions and reassurances.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Waiting in the Wings**

Daphne stood behind the counter of the Weasley Wizard Wheezes' shop, tapping her fingers on the thick grain of wood.

Tapping away.

Tapping away.

Tapping away.

Daphne sighed. "Bored now."

"How can you be bored, Greengrass?" Fred asked, as he was lifting a couple of boxes of Farting Fruit Jellies, a rather new Wheeze that she had had the tremendous _displeasure _of testing out, unwittingly of course, as Fred and George had slipped it into her pudding a week ago.

It had worked _spectacularly _well . . . or had been horribly mortifying, depending on whether one spoke to the twins or to Daphne.

"There's nothing to bloody _do_!" She turned around, leaned on the counter and folded her arms in exasperation.

"Greengrass, d'ya know what your problem is?" George piped up, standing next to his brother.

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."

"_Your_ problem is that you've got nothing going on up _here_," Fred said, pointing to her head. She glowered at him.

"Are you saying I'm thick?"

"Oh, Daphne! We don't think that at all!" George said, slapping her on the back. Jumping up a tiny bit in the air, she glared at the twins. George continued with his pointless blather. "What we mean is that you don't have the entrepreneurial spirit lodged within ya."

"You use your head for books and school, but with things like running a business—"

"The tank's all full, but the Grindylows're dead, right Fred?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself!"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I don't want to spend my future days running a shop where the best-selling item is a sweet the side effect of which is making one vomit, piss and poop all at the same time." She walked around the counter. "I'll think of better ways to put my _brilliant _mind to use."

"No imagination on this one, Fred!"

"She is the graveyard where the funny goes to die."

"Oh sod off!"

The sound of their front doorbell, which sounded remarkably like someone passing gas, alerted them to a potential customer.

Fred, George and Daphne turned to look at who had just entered the shop. They paled considerably as they saw a tall, hooded figure glide toward them, their face obscured in the shadow of their cloak.

Fred and George stepped forward, hands twitching on their wands.

"Welcome, stranger," Fred said in a strong, almost threatening voice. "Have a look around."

George continued in a commanding tone. "We're nothing but a mere joke and prank shop in Diagon—"

He stopped talking as the cloaked figure reached up and touched their hood. In one, quick motion, they pushed their hood down and revealed their face—

Daphne gasped.

"_You_!" Fred and George said in unison.

Daphne's mouth fell open.

(_Him!_)

Michael Corner raised one eyebrow. "Er . . . hello?"

Fred walked over with narrowed, suspicious eyes. He poked Michael in the chest with his wand. "You're that shady git who dated Ginny all of fifth year."

"Um . . . oh, erm," Michael stammered. "W-well, I'm not with her anymore."

George nodded, looking at the Ravenclaw with eyes just as mistrustful as his brother's. "_Yeah! _We heard you were a right _shit_ toward her—"

"Mess with our sister, _Corner_, and you'll find a Wheeze stuck so far up your arse that your intestines will be the only part of you that's _highly_ _amused_."

Daphne _tsked_ at the twins. "Shut up, you two!" She pushed past them to get to Michael.

She stopped in front of him and took a good long look at his face. It had been over a couple of weeks since she had had any contact with him.

(_He's as adorably goofy as ever, huh, Greengrass?_)

She took a breath. "What Beatles' song did I tell you that Sir Paul should ram a sword through your head because you didn't 'understand' it?"

Michael chuckled and he pushed some of his shaggy locks behind his right ear. "That would be 'A Day in the Life', my _fair _Miss Greengrass." He looked at her for a long time. "Which classroom did Ernie Macmillian catch us in back in January?" Just over her right shoulder, Daphne heard Fred and George feigning gagging and retching sounds in response to his question. She smirked.

"First floor. Muggle Studies." Her grin blossomed into a smile. "That was _a lot _of fun. Before that little butt-wad Macmillian interrupted us."

He laughed heartily. "Godric, I've missed you."

(_So've I._)

Daphne couldn't stop smiling, and what was worse, she was letting him see it.

"So, you're a working girl now, eh?"

"_Hey_! I'm 'gainfully employed' Corner." She swatted at him, and walked back towards the counter. "I'm taking a fiver!" she yelled out to the twins.

"When are you _not_, Greengrass?" came Fred's snarky reply. Daphne rolled her eyes at him.

She gestured Michael to follow her into the back. Sitting down at the shop's worktable, she motioned for him to take a seat in front of her. "How'ja know to find me?"

Michael grinned. "Ron and Ginny owled me about two days after you moved in with them." He winced slightly. "I would've owled you sooner, but they said that it's no use sending letters to the Burrow right now."

"Oh, yeah," Daphne responded with a nod. Arthur Weasley had told Daphne during her first day at the Burrow that all correspondence, packages, or other deliveries addressed to the house would be routed to the Ministry for the time being, due to security concerns for the family.

"I would've tried to come up here sooner too," he said, grimacing, "but it's been a bit crazy."

Daphne raised her brow and nodded in agreement.

"Plus," Michael continued in a careful voice, "I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me." He looked at her. "I'm really sorry about that. Apparently, I'm an avoider. When things get tough, I _avoid_." He grinned awkwardly, his face falling almost immediately after he said it. There was a moment of silence between them, broken only by Daphne clearing her throat.

"Well, as you know, I _am_ bloody perfect, and I _never_ avoid anything," she said, "so I'll forgive you, but don't let it happen again." Daphne winked, and her expression softened into a warm smile and gentle eyes. "I've missed you too, Michael." She bit her lip. "You're doing all right?"

He pulled his lips in and screwed up the right side of his face. "My mum and dad are going a bit insane with current events and happenings in the wizarding world." He stopped talking for a moment and fiddled with his cloak. "They want to see about us moving to America."

(_What?!_)

(_No_!)

"Er . . . Am- . . . _Amer_-_rica_?!" She could barely get the word out.

Michael nodded. "Mum and Dad are convinced that the war hasn't reached overseas yet. We have an uncle who's a Squib that lives in Massachusetts with his wife, who's an instructor at the Salem Institute for Witches." His brow darkened. "I don't want to go at all, Daphne. I mean, I'm of age, anyway," he said, shrugging. "I owled Tony, and—"

"Tony?"

"Anthony Goldstein."

Daphne nodded; unfortunately, "Tony" Goldstein hadn't warmed up to her last year when she and Michael had started seeing each other. However, the relationship had ended in February, and was currently in this flirtatious "holding pattern". Daphne was fairly certain that Anthony Goldstein hated her guts; she had been the one to pretty much "muck up" the whole thing.

"He's pure-blood?"

Michael shook his head. "No, but whatever Muggle-born relations Tony may have in his family tree, they're more concealed than mine, or Terry's. Terry's dad's Muggle-born, and my mum is too. I can stay with the Goldsteins if I need to. Same goes for Terry—"

"Ah-. . . are they gonna come after your family?" Daphne asked, a note of desperate worry creeping into her voice.

He looked at her and, again, shook his head. "I wish I knew. It's starting to get bad out there." He nodded toward the distance. "You heard about the 'mysterious' fires and gas leaks along Charing Cross and Tottenham Court Roads? Those districts are really close to Diagon Alley, but they hit Muggle businesses. Those weren't accidents, Daphne."

She nodded. She had already heard about those attacks; the day that they had happened, the Burrow had been thrown into a frenzy of activity.

"It's not just there, either." Michael said, cringing. "There were a couple of house fires that the authorities couldn't explain what caused 'em. And there've been a few unexplained deaths that left the authorities completely astounded. There were no signs of firearms or weapons or toxins used to kill those families."

"The Killing Curse?" Daphne asked, although it came out more as a statement.

He nodded. "Mum and Dad are worried, y'know."

"Well, of course they are. You're their only son." Daphne reached over and cupped his cheek. "If they weren't worried, they wouldn't be good parents to you."

"I don't want to leave," Michael said, a note of defiance creeping into his voice. "I-I want to do something. _Fight_, y'know? If it came to it."

Daphne felt her heart leap into her throat; briefly, an image of Michael Corner, lying prone and covered in blood flashed through her mind and she felt her breath hitch and her stomach churn with nausea.

"Y-you'd fight? I thought you were an _avoider_?" She threw back his own words to his face; maybe if he remembered what he said, he would decide he shouldn't be anywhere near the war.

Michael blushed. "Yeah, well, I'm trying to change that. I don't want to be the bloke who runs away when the going gets tough. I'm learning that not everything's easy, but if you believe in something hard enough, or if you _want _something strongly enough, you'll do what you need to do and you won't run away from it." He gazed at Daphne in a very meaningful manner. She could barely stop herself from swooning.

An odd, but content expression passed over his face, and Michael reached up with one hand and took hold of Daphne's, which was still cupping his cheek. His thumb rubbed across her knuckles and she felt a tingle run up and down her arm.

"You're worried about me?" he asked, with a grin and raised eyebrow.

Daphne could only look at him, her mouth gaping and her brain stumbling through some sort of response. "I don't want you t-to . . ."

"To what?"

A small grunt escaped her nose and Daphne could only continue to look at him. "T-to . . . I don't want . . ." She looked down, shaking her head, trying to clear it.

Michael brought his hand up to touch her chin and her eyes were instantly drawn back to him. He leaned forward, gently kissing her on her lips. A small kiss, indeed, but it was all the contact with him that she needed to feel electric shocks course through her body, like she was shaking and on fire simultaneously.

Their eyes met again, and Daphne watched Michael's face go from happy to something inscrutable, some unknowable emotion that made him look upon her like she was the only thing on the planet worth staring at.

"Daphne, we didn't get a chance to talk after Dumbledore, well . . . y'know," Michael started, and her eyes shifted to the ground. "And—"

She looked back up at him.

"And we never got the chance to talk about us."

Daphne felt her mouth twitch upward. "We should talk, shouldn't we?"

He nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact with her. "We _should . . ._"

"_Oi_!_ Greengrass_!" came the dulcet tones of George and Fred as the shouted at her in unison.

Michael chuckled and bowed his head as Daphne growled in response. "_What_?!"

"You asked for a fiver, and you took a twenty. It's back to the grindstone!" Fred sniggered.

"And no time for _kissy_-_kissy_ with the prat!" George hollered.

"Merlin's nut-sack! They're obnoxious," Daphne muttered. She looked at Michael and he smirked at her.

"I should be going anyway, Daphne."

(_You can't just let him leave!_)

(_Tell him!_)

(_Dammit you stupid, cowardly bint! Show him!_)

Michael got up and walked back out to the shop, Fred and George glaring at him as he made his way to the front door. He turned back to Daphne and gave her a wink just before he pulled his hood back over his head.

(_Now's your chance._)

(_Grand gesture, Greengrass. Grand-effin'-gesture!_)

"Be careful out there, Michael."

"_Careful,_" he said as he leaned over, "is my middle name, _fair _Greengrass." He smiled, winked and opened the door—

(_Do it . . ._)

(_NOW!_)

And Michael stopped as Daphne jumped up and threw herself at him, hugging him with an uncharacteristically violent force that she didn't know was possible.

He laughed as he embraced her. "I guess this means you kind of like me?"

"Just . . ." Daphne's voice halted as she buried her head in his shoulder. She felt his arms tighten around her middle, keeping her propped up against him. "Don't let anything happen to you."

She lifted her head and looked at Michael. He leaned his head forwards, and kissed her, gently and sweetly, on her lips.

"Get back to work, okay?" he whispered against her mouth. Daphne nodded and she let him lower her back down to the ground.

Smiling and bringing up his hood to cover his head, Michael Corner turned and walked outside the shop.

Daphne let the door shut behind him. She pressed her face against the door, when suddenly, she heard—

"_Oh _my Mikey!" Fred said in a whispery, high-pitched and sappy voice, as he leaned in toward George, his hands clasped in front of his chest, "My love for tall, dark and dorky gits knows no bounds!"

"My sweet, snakey skrewt!" George's spoke in an exaggeratedly deep voice. "I've finally found someone who can appreciate my moody and grumpy arse—"

"Only because I'm as moody and grumpy as you, my _sexy_ eagle—"

"Piss! _Off_!" Daphne said, her voice and face full of fury. The twins simply kept laughing at her and mocking her and Michael, making a ludicrous amount of kissing noises any time she'd pass by them.

* * *

Ginny folded and re-folded the white cloths again . . . and again. She looked at the stacks she had made, one for each pair of fliers and Harry Potters, seven in total. Each stack had twenty rags. It had taken her mum the better part of a week — not to mention she and Fleur sacrificing time they would've normally spent planning the wedding — to gather enough cloth, healing potions, salves, and blood replenishing ointments for the mission.

_The _mission.

The one where three-quarters of her family were risking their lives in order to save Harry.

(_Risking their lives._)

(_Risking _his_ life._)

Ginny closed her eyes and took two deep breaths.

(_Dammit!_ _Pull yourself together!)_

(_Mum needs you. They all need you._)

Rubbing her forehead, Ginny fell into one of the chairs at the head of the table. She bit the inside of her cheek; just a small jolt of pain was enough to stem the tide of tears that were threatening to fall.

(_Stop it!_)

Ginny quickly wiped at her eyes—

"Dear?"

Ginny felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw her mum, gazing at her with an abundance of warmth and tenderness. She smiled, despite feeling like her guts were about to fall out of her body, feeling that if she didn't see all of her family and friends at the Burrow by the end of the night, safe and sound, she would absolutely lose it.

"M-Mum."

Molly Weasley placed a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of her daughter. She also had a small plate filled with chocolate, broken into small, bite-sized sections.

Ginny took a good look at her mum. She noticed that her mum seemed smaller than she could ever remember her being. Her mum's auburn hair, too, was creased and streaked with more grey than before. With a start, she realized that her mum was aging, that her face was lined and creased, particularly on her forehead and around her eyes. She looked drawn and pale and tired.

Molly brought the family clock over to the table, and Levitated it just next to the groups of towels, so that it hovered right above the table's surface. Looking at the hands with the pictures of Ron, Fred, George, Bill and her dad, Ginny saw that all of them were still pointed at "Away".

Which meant they hadn't left Privet Drive yet.

Molly took a seat next to her daughter and broke off a square of chocolate. "It will be some time still, Ginny." She reached up and gently patted the top of her daughter's head. "We're prepared on our end for anything—"

Ginny swallowed, pushing down a thick lump that had caught in her throat. "Wh-where's Daphne?"

"Upstairs in the bath. She," Molly said, pausing for a moment, "I believe she needed a moment to get her head on straight."

Ginny nodded — and then she just started talking. "Mum, do you have faith nothing's going to happen tonight? Do you think that they'll all come back, safe and sound, that we'll have all our family back, our friends back, that Harry--" Ginny's head fell forward and she rubbed her eyes.

"Oh, my girl. My darling, baby girl."

Ginny looked up. Her mum looked at her with a mix of affection and empathy; she _knew, _and when the older woman smiled, she felt herself grow warm inside.

Ginny marveled at how, even when her mum, old with stress and worry and fear for her entire family, that her mum could manage to comfort her youngest child with a mere smile.

Molly grasped her hand. "I _do_ have faith. But, I'm not going to lie to you."

Ginny swallowed; the lump was back in her throat as her mum spoke.

"There are many things that you will see, that you will encounter that you should _never_ _know."_ Molly shook her head and touched Ginny's cheek with the palm of her hand. "To be so young and to grow up in a war . . . to see your family and your friends so willing to give up th-their l-lives . . ." Molly's voice hitched and she stifled a small sob. Composing herself, she continued. "I wish you didn't have to know these things, but — I _swear _to you — I _believe _that we are _all_ going to make it out of this. Together. As a family."

Molly grasped her daughter's trembling chin. Ginny met her mum's eyes; she knew her own were just as wet. But all she could do was nod and set her mouth in a determined line.

Molly allowed a similarly determined smile to appear on her face.

At the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, both Weasley women turned to see Daphne Greengrass approaching them, her wet hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.

"Any word?"

Molly shook her head and patted at the chair on the other side of her. "Come sit and have some chocolate, Daphne."

She complied, and she munched on and drank chocolate along with the two Weasley women. The three of them sat in silence, eyes fixed on the Weasley family clock, with five hands resolutely pointing to "Away".

"We should've had a hand made for Fleur."

Ginny and Daphne both looked at Molly, who spoke as she faced the clock.

"We should have a hand for Harry and Hermione too. We can't, of course — unless they're blood relations, or . . . or—"

They lapsed into silence . . .

Watching the clock . . .

Waiting . . .

Watching . . .

Waiting . . .

Instantaneously, the five hands flipped to "Traveling".

They let out a cheer.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Molly exclaimed, followed by a breath of pure relief.

"They'll be here within the hour—"

"Ginny, see? They'll be fine." Daphne smiled big and wide.

"_Godric_, I can't wait to see—"

And just as suddenly, all five hands flew to "Mortal Peril".

The click of the clock filled the empty space of Burrow's dining room; Ginny watched the color drain out of her mum's face. Daphne's voice halted in her throat, and Ginny realized that she wasn't breathing.

"Both of you — make sure _none _of the Blood-Replenishing Potions need mixing, or fortifying with any other potions!" Molly had already moved quickly, checking all the supplies of Skele-Gro, Strengthening Solutions, burn-healing pastes, and a new balm of concentrated Murtlap tentacles. A couple of white basins flew out of the kitchen and Molly set about casting _Aguamenti_ to fill them with water.

The women all had one eye on the medicinal supplies and one eye on the clock. After a few minutes, they realized that they were as prepared with the ointments and solutions as they could reasonably be, and they turned their full attention to the clock. To the hands.

The hands that hadn't moved from "Mortal Peril" in the last ten minutes . . . eleven minutes . . . _thirteen_ minutes and twenty-seven seconds.

They each held their breaths . . . watching . . . waiting. . . .

"How will the clock know that they aren't in 'Mortal Peril' anymore?"

Molly answered Daphne in a quiet voice but kept her brown eyes trained on the family heirloom. "The clock only moves the hands when the person has changed location or situation. It is instantaneous. If they were only traveling, their hands would have remained on 'Traveling'." Her voice quickened, but her eyes never wavered. "'M-mortal Peril' is given priority; they can still be in the process of traveling, but, if they're under a-attack, then the clock immediately clicks to . . ."

Molly's voice trailed off, and Ginny chanced a glimpse at her mum's face. She stood, her eyes fixed on the clock; her mouth was firmly set. For the first time, Ginny could see lines creasing her mum's chin—

"Ginny, do you remember the order of the Portkeys?"

Startled from her silent observation of her mum's face, she stammered out an answer to Molly's inquiry, "F-first, R-ron and Tonks . . . oil can. Dad and Fred, with the old sneaker. Harry and Hagrid are third—"

"Hairbrush," Daphne said, almost inaudibly. Ginny turned around to face her and Daphne continued talking. "George and Lupin are after them with the boot."

Ginny nodded. "Hermione and Kingsley Shacklebolt, with a coat hanger, right?"

Daphne concurred. "And Bill and Fleur . . . they're using a hat, I think."

"Right," Ginny said.

"What about Mad-Eye and Mundungus Fletcher?" Daphne asked.

"I thought they were using a . . . a tin can?"

"Yes, Ginny, that's right." Molly kept staring at the clock. Even in the five . . . seven . . . oh, Ginny had _no_ idea . . . however many minutes that that conversation had taken up, the blasted hands didn't move.

They seemed impossibly frozen on "Mortal Peril".

Molly then chanced a glance at a pocketwatch that Arthur had given her to keep time. "We should be expecting the first portkey in ten minutes."

"Why aren't they changing?" Daphne asked breathlessly.

"Don't know." Ginny answered.

"The Portkeys will be arriving in the yard; we should be out there when they get here . . ."

"Mrs. Weasley," Daphne started.

"Daphne, please . . . call me Molly." She spoke without ever taking her eyes off of her family's hands.

"M-Molly, would the hands still be on, er- . . . would the hands not move to a different location until they started traveling back? C-could they be in . . . in trouble _while _traveling by Portkey?"

Molly shook her head. "As soon as they are traveling away from . . . from," Molly gestured at the clock, "as soon as they touch the Portkey, the hands'll shift—"

A bright blue light shone in the Burrows yard.

Molly, running faster than Ginny could ever remember, burst through the front door. She was the first outside, followed by her daughter, and then by Daphne.

They stopped and stood above the rusty oil can.

Molly let out a gasp. "B-but where are they?" She brought a hand to her mouth, which Ginny could see was shaking in the dark. "Wh-where's my son? Where's Tonks?"

Ginny took hold of her mum, trying to comfort her while her own stomach felt like lurching out of her body.

Daphne ran up next to Ginny, and leaned toward her. "There's no change in the clock," she whispered. "Does that mean—?"

Ginny looked at the Slytherin girl and shrugged. She had no idea of how to respond . . . and saying _anything_ at this point would cause her to lose it.

Molly pulled herself together and looked out into the woods beyond the Burrow's grouds. The three let the quiet wash over them and Ginny could almost _feel _the pleas, the silent entreaties from both her mum and Daphne, reaching into her own mind . . . giving strength to her own desire for safe returns—

Another blue light appeared—

"_No_!" Molly exclaimed.

"Dammit!" Daphne swore.

Ginny let out a sob.

Neither Fred nor her father had returned with the Portkey.

Ginny continued to stand with her mum as Daphne disappeared back into the house. "No change?" Ginny asked when Daphne returned. Daphne shook her head.

(_This is taking too long. This is taking way too long._)

(_Dammit!_)

Molly put her hand on Ginny's forearm and gave her a firm, but comforting squeeze.

Ten minutes passed . . .

Fifteen . . .

Seventeen minutes and thirty-five seconds . . .

Nineteen and twenty-two seconds . . .

Another blue light appeared, and there was a sharp intake of breath . . .

But this time, a huge figure and a much smaller body slammed onto the ground in front of Ginny's eyes . . .

(_Hagrid . . ._)

(Harry!)

(_Oh GodricGodricGodricGodric!_)

With a yelp, her mum was the first to reach him.

"He's all right, Ginny," Daphne said, a hand on her shoulder. "He's standing. He's walking. Your mum's not moving to get any potion for him . . ."

(_She's right. Daphne's right._)

(_Calm down._)

Ginny saw Harry and her mum talking. Harry pleaded with Molly to believe him about something, she knew not what. Her mum hugged Harry desperately, and turned to head back toward the house. Hagrid followed Molly back to the house, but her mum continued to hold her pale face in her hands and she could see her shoulders shake—

And as she turned her eyes forward, Ginny saw Harry Potter; they stood face-to-face for the first time since Dumbledore's funeral.

"I'll, er- . . . just make myself scarce . . ." Daphne mumbled and walked off, pointing to some unknown point near the house.

Which left Harry and Ginny by themselves, waiting for the rest to appear.


	8. Chapter 7: Rescues and Recovery

**A/N:** An update! Yay! And I'm very rested too, from time in the countryside. Thanks so much to stella8h8chang for betaing this chapter. I own nothing. Rated T for strong language.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Rescues and Recovery**

She had never seen so much blood before.

There was so much blood coming out from someone who was still alive.

Daphne paled as she watched Harry Potter and Remus Lupin carry George Weasley into the Burrow's living room, making sure he was lying on the sofa. Daphne swooned with nausea as she saw the source of all the blood: a hole on the side of George's head where his ear had been.

Immediately, she ran and grabbed Blood-Replenishing Potions, right as Ginny snagged two whole towers of cloths and basin of water. They brought both to Molly Weasley, who was already tending to her son's wound with her own apron.

"Oh _Merlin_!" Daphne breathed out, as Molly viciously tore another strip of cloth off to staunch the flow of blood. She saw Ginny standing next to her, pale, shaking, and rubbing her mouth with a trembling, nervous hand. "What did Harry say?"

"There was a whole army of Death Eaters, waiting at Privet Drive." Ginny never took her eyes off of her mum as she worked on her older brother.

"They _knew_?" Daphne asked incredulously.

Ginny nodded, still watching Molly work. "We don't know how—"

"W-well," Daphne said, shakily but cynically, "I don't think it takes a great Arithmancer to divine that someone told them."

Ginny's face remained calm, but she turned her eyes to Daphne. The Slytherin saw her horrified disbelief. "I don't see how that's possible."

Daphne snorted. Her gaze fell to the ground. "Betrayal is a fairly common human quality."

(_Just look at Professor Snape._)

Ginny shook her head. "No, I-I mean . . . _how_ could any one of the Order do that? From where I'm standing, the only people that knew about the plan was our family and the other members who were participating that evening—"

Daphne shrugged, just as Lupin's voice rose in the background; he was telling Harry that "the time for Disarming is past!"

"Damn. You know things have turned to total dragon dung when _Lupin's_ the one losing it." Daphne intoned.

Ginny was about to respond, when Daphne heard the same thing that caused Lupin to jump out of his chair — the sound of scuffling from the outside.

Another group had just arrived by portkey.

"I'll go see who it is. Stay here with your mum."

Ginny nodded and Daphne bolted into the yard, just in time to see Harry hugging Hermione and Kingsley Shacklebolt talking to Lupin.

Daphne joined the circle, and even managed to give Hermione a hug to greet her.

"_Godric_! You've no idea how much we were worried, Granger!"

"How many times do I have to tell you, call me Hermione—"

Daphne held up a hand to stop Hermione's rant. She gave the bushy-haired girl a small, relieved smile. "Well, that settles it! It's definitely you." Daphne's face fell. "The others aren't back yet."

Hermione shut her eyes and bit her lip. "Ron—"

Daphne shook her head. "No word. Fred's, Mr. Weasley's, Ron's and Bill's hands have been on 'Mortal Peril' now since you all left Privet Drive."

"_Oh_!" Hermione breathed out and brought her hand up to her watery eyes. "H-how're Mrs. Weasley? Ginny?"

Daphne winced. "They're focused on George—"

Hermione gave Daphne a horrified expression. "_George_?!"

"He lost an ear."

Hermione and Daphne turned and faced Lupin, who had been talking to Kingsley Shacklebolt about the most recent breakout of Death Eaters and other loyalists to Voldemort's army. Hermione's hand fell to her mouth; all the color drained from her face.

"An _ear_?" she squeaked.

Lupin nodded. "_Sectumsempra_. Snape's handiwork—"

At this, Daphne blanched.

(_Bloody Salazar's Snake!_)

(_Snape?_)

"_Snape_?!" Harry exclaimed. "He was _there_? _He_ was a part of that?" Harry pointed to the heavens. Panting as Lupin explained Snape's hood had fallen off in the heat of battle, Harry turned around and let out a string of invectives that would've had any of the Weasley kids blushing.

"Harry, we need yeh in here!" Hagrid bellowed from the entryway. Harry ran toward the house. Daphne's eyes followed his retreating figure for a few moments.

She was certain that Hagrid had summoned Harry to help with George.

George.

George Weasley.

Daphne let out a breath. It had been so close. She had no idea whether George was all right; for all she knew he had already lost too much blood—

(_No._)

(_Stop that. Don't start thinking the worst._)

(_They don't need you breaking down, Greengrass._)

Daphne remembered that Bill had lost almost twice as much blood after Greyback attacked him. He had made it through just fine. Daphne allowed a small grin of relief to appear on her face.

She wasn't going to allow herself to think that anyone was going to die tonight.

Another day, perhaps.

Another war.

But not tonight.

Daphne glanced over to her right side. Hermione was looking up into the dark sky. Daphne saw that Hermione's eyes were growing more and more wet and she stood stock still, her arms crossed in front of her chest as if trying to keep her entire body contained, as if trying to keep herself from leaping up off of the ground to search the heavens for the missing parties.

"Hermione," Daphne whispered, "they'll be here."

Hermione could only respond with a soft whimper. She kept her face turned upwards—

Another bright blue light lit up the night. Daphne, Hermione, Shacklebolt and Lupin watched as both Fred and Arthur Weasley slammed onto the ground.

"_Arthur_!" Lupin cried out.

"Mr. Weasley! Fred!" Hermione could barely stop herself. She ran over to the pair. "It's George."

Arthur nearly stumbled to the ground. "W-what? What happened?" His eyes moved rapidly over Lupin's and Shacklebolt's faces.

"George was badly injured during the fight, Arthur." Lupin said quickly.

"Injured how?"

Lupin turned toward Fred. "His ear. Snape's doing."

Arthur stormed toward the Burrow, Fred on his heels.

"Wait!" It was now Kingsley Shacklebolt who was speaking. "Arthur, we need to ask you your question—"

"Don't_ e_ven _think _about it, Kingsley! My son's in there!" Arthur managed to wrench out of Shacklebolt's grasp and proceeded toward the Burrow as if his own life depended on it, his face clouded with both fury and fear.

Daphne and Hermione looked at each other. Instead of words, Daphne moved closer to Hermione, and put her hand on her shoulder. Hermione gave her a shaky smile.

Both girls' eyes turned back toward the sky.

It was impossible to know how long they stood there, silent and waiting. At one point, Hermione gave Daphne's own hand a couple of pats and Daphne felt her chin give, and sensed tears gathering in her own eyes.

They stood, and slowly, more joined them. Shacklebolt was already outside next to the girls. Lupin joined him. From where he stood, Daphne could hear him whisper, "Tonks," into the night air.

Daphne heard the quiver in her own breath. She had forgotten that Professor Lupin was waiting for his wife's safe return. She wanted to kick herself for being so forgetful.

On the other side, farther away from Shacklebolt and Lupin, Harry and Ginny stood together, hands held, still and quiet as two statues.

Harry looked over to Daphne and she gave him a small smile and nod. He returned both gestures—

"Come on, _Ron,_" Hermione said in a hushed voice. "_Please._"

The vigil continued.

Seconds . . .

Minutes . . .

_Hours_ . . .

(_Too long._)

Daphne paced back and forth, biting her fingernails and tearing them off in increasing apprehension.

(_They should've been back by now_—)

Blue light shone directly in front of her—

And Daphne yelped and Hermione screamed out, "It's _them_!"

Before Tonks' even made it off of her broom, Lupin had her in his arms, his face turning pink even in the darkness.

Harry, Ginny and Daphne ran over to Ron, who was embracing Hermione as hard and as tight as he could. Harry slapped his best friend on the back and Ginny took her turn hugging him.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed. "I shouldn't be worried about Bellatrix Lestrange; I'll be hugged to death after all this is over!" Ginny slapped at him with affection. "Are we the last back? Muriel was a complete _basketcase_. She made us late—"

Ginny shook her head, her face showing her disappointment and worry. "We're waiting for Bill and Fleur and Mad-Eye and Mundungus." She turned back to the Burrow. "I'll tell Mum and Dad you got back all right."

Daphne smacked Ron across the head. "You _git_!"

"Ow! The hell, Greengrass! Some bloody 'Welcome Back!' that is." He looked put out.

"_You_! You kept us all waiting," Daphne said, as she shook her head and rolled her eyes. She smirked at him, but playfully and kind. "Even on a mission, you take your sweet time."

Ron rolled his eyes at her and turned back to the others. "All right, so, what did I miss?"

"I lost Hedwig," Harry said; sadness clouded his voice.

Hermione gasped. "_No_! Harry, y-you mean she's—?"

Harry nodded. "Killing Curse. I have no idea which Death Eater it came from." Harry swallowed and let out a breath halfway between a gasp and a sob. "It didn't sink in before . . . sh-she's just gone."

"Mate," Ron said in a sympathetic voice. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry. Really sorry." Harry nodded.

"She was good to you, wasn't she?" Daphne asked.

Harry gave her a grin, and Daphne noticed with a start that it was the first time she had ever seen Harry's chin shake with emotion. "She was the best."

Hermione hugged him tightly, muttering her own condolences, which Harry accepted gratefully.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley ran outside to see Ron. Daphne was shocked to see Molly's apron several inches shorter, loose strings from where the fabric was ripped flying as she ran.

And, Daphne observed, with another sickening sensation, that it was covered with blood.

"_Oh_ . . . my Ronnie . . . my little _Ronnie_!"

"Arrgh! Mum . . . gerroff . . . 'M all right . . ." he managed to get out despite her violently hugging and kissing him all over his face.

"Son, I can't even tell you how glad we are to see you," Arthur said shakily. "Tonks said you were wonderful up there — got one of the Death Eaters right in the face."

Ron blushed and stammered. "Well . . . er . . . don't wanna brag . . ." but his voice was filed with the sound of pride. Suddenly, Ron noticed his mum's apron. "M-Mum, what's that—?"

"Ron, it's your brother. Everything's all right, but—"

Molly didn't have a chance to finish the sentence. At that moment, all eyes and hands pointed toward the sky.

"I see them!" Tonks shouted. "A Thestral! Bill and Fleur!"

Bill and Fleur landed and the group ran over to greet them. However, they all paused as they noticed the expressions on both of their faces.

"Mad-Eye's dead."

A hush fell over the garden, broken only by the startled gasps of Molly and Tonks.

"Bill," the young Auror asked him, a small hint of desperate disbelief creeping into her voice, "You're sure? H-he's . . ." Lupin had a hold of Tonks' shoulders, and Daphne saw them shake as she spoke.

Bill could only nod. "Voldemort went after him as soon as we were in the air. I- . . . _Godric_! Did any of you _see_ him?" Bill asked the others, desperation in his voice. Lupin and Shacklebolt nodded.

"He can fly."

Bill shook his head at Lupin's response. "We couldn't believe it ourselves." He wiped at his mouth, too shell-shocked to continue.

"Eet looked as though Mundungus panicked and Disapparated while on zee broom," Fleur continued. "Mad-Eye was steel alive, but V-Voldemort 'it 'im in zee face and Mad-Eye fell." Fleur looked at Bill, who was shaking his head.

"We couldn't reach him . . . we had to go on . . . there were too many, and we were almost surrounded . . ." Bill looked at Fleur with a nod. "I'm never, _ever_ teasing you again about the quality of teaching at Beauxbatons." Bill turned to the others. "Fleur put most of the Aurors at the Ministry to shame."

Daphne could hear the matter-of-fact reverence in his voice.

"Tonks," Fleur said, still blushing at Bill's compliment, "I am so sorry about Mad-Eye. I know 'e trained you to become an Auror."

Tonks could only nod and mouth "Thanks" She turned into Lupin's arms and embraced him.

Daphne caught her breath. She had barely known Mad-Eye Moody. And, in all actuality, she couldn't really count the year that he had taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had been, _not _Mad-Eye Moody after all, but Barty Crouch, Jr., a Death Eater in disguise.

But when she had known Mad-Eye _as _Mad-Eye, he hadn't really trusted her. It was only a week ago when he had tried to kick her out of the meeting where they discussed how they were going to rescue Harry.

However, Daphne knew that Mad-Eye's death was a huge loss for the Order. For all of his paranoia and insanity, Mad-Eye was one of the best Aurors the Ministry had ever seen . . .

("_Had_" _is the operative word, isn't it?_)

(_So much death._)

(_It's nowhere near over, and already, so many people have died._)

Daphne didn't even realize that they were walking back up to the house. She looked over at Harry and Ginny, who were still clinging onto each others' hands. Ginny caught her eye; to Daphne's surprise, the youngest Weasley girl wasn't crying like the others.

Daphne pulled her eyes away. She saw Ron holding Hermione close to him. Lupin and Tonks were trailing behind all of them, Tonks weeping into her hand, and Lupin offering her his handkerchief. Shacklebolt stood next to Hagrid, who was dabbing at his own eyes. The Auror had his head bowed down low and his eyes closed. Daphne felt that even watching him was an invasion of his privacy.

Molly and Arthur were already standing in the room. Arthur kissed the top of his wife's head as she trembled in his arms and cried.

All Daphne wanted at that point was to have Michael Corner next to her, embracing her.

(_Because you'd know for sure that he was still alive._)

Bill sent a number of glasses filled with firewhiskey around the room. They all took the glasses, raising them in high tribute—

"To Mad-Eye."

"Mad-Eye."

The clinks of glass hitting teeth and mouths filled the quiet space. Daphne choked her own firewhiskey back, letting the fire burn down her throat. There was a moment of lightheadedness, a brief swoop as the drink hit her guts . . . and it was gone.

Daphne's head returned to the present, and she heard the conversation in the room return to what exactly happened . . . how the _hell_ had they found out . . . if they had been betrayed (and, obviously, they mentioned Mundungus's name, since he _had _suspiciously disappeared.)

"Where do you think you're going at this hour?"

Daphne snapped out of her trance and heard Lupin's stern question to his wife, who was walking out the door.

"Someone's got to find Mad-Eye's body and wand, Remus." Tonks said in a faraway voice. "I'd prefer it to be one of us," she pointed to Shacklebolt and herself, "instead of Death Eaters. It's our job." Tonks' voice eased up, and she walked over to her husband and touched his cheek. "We have to retrieve his body. Mad-Eye was good about keeping only the necessaries on him. He wouldn't have had any confidential items on him, but I shudder thinking that if he were found by the wrong people . . ." Tonks gave a small cough. "I'm going. Who else is with me? Bill? I know it's already been a long day, but you saw where he went down—"

Bill nodded. "Count me in."

"_Beel_?" Fleur intoned. He held his hand up.

"I saw him fall. They need help. They also might need backup. I've got to go." Fleur ran to him and hugged him.

"Jus' be careful, Beel."

"Of course," he said to her gently and kissed her.

Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded an affirmative. "I'm with you, Tonks."

"No way you're leaving here without me." Lupin stepped forward to join his wife.

The house quietly watched the party of four troop out of the house and out into the dangerous night.

Talk of wands and trying to get Harry to stay when the _stupid git_ damn near insisted that he _had _to go seemed to occupy the rest of the evening. Daphne did notice Harry growing more and more pale, more and more sickly as the discussion progressed, and Harry stumbled outside, followed closely by Ron and Hermione. Ginny stood, watching them leave, scratching her elbow in an awkward manner, as if she simply didn't know what to do with herself.

Daphne felt her eyes close. It seemed that the adrenaline rush of the evening had finally worn off; coming down from that particular high and consuming the firewhiskey left Daphne rather drowsy.

She bade goodnight to the group and drug herself up the staircase toward Percy's old room. Daphne flung herself onto her bed, and shut her eyes . . .

When she heard a knock at the door.

"C'min," she mumbled, and the door creaked open.

"Daphne, were you asleep?"

Ginny peeked her head into the room. "Oh, dangit! I'm . . . I'm sorry. I sort of wanted to talk to . . . er, _someone _. . ." Ginny turned back to the hallway. "I'll just go to my own room—"

"Hey," Daphne said, and she sat up and rubbed her eyes. " 'S okay, Ginny. I had just put my head on the pillow. Come in."

Ginny nodded and sat down on the bed.

"How's George?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Saintlike."

Daphne creased her brow, "Huh?"

"His horrible joke. He's _holey_ now." Ginny pointed at her ear.

Daphne groaned and smacked her forehead. "Awful. Seriously _awful_!" She snorted and Ginny chuckled. "At least he's all right." Daphne meant to make it a statement, but it came out more like a question.

Ginny's face fell; she looked troubled and confused.

"How can I feel like this?"

"What do you mean?"

Ginny fumbled with the loose threads of the bed sheets and licked her lips. "Did you cry?"

"Hmm?"

Ginny looked down at the bed. "When you found out about Moody. Did you cry?"

Daphne's eyebrows shot up. "Well . . . er . . ."

Ginny nodded, her face expressionless. "Yeah. I looked over, and I think you and I were the only ones that didn't." She swallowed. "I feel _so bad_," she whispered, "because Harry was, Ron and Hermione were, my whole family . . . Tonks, Shacklebolt . . . but," her hand swooped under her eyes for emphasis. "No tears." Ginny looked back at Daphne. "I c-couldn't help it," she coughed awkwardly, "I felt . . . not _happy_, but relieved." She chewed on her bottom lip. "After what happened with Bill, and tonight with George, I was . . ." Ginny paused and closed her eyes, her face scrunched up a bit as if she were trying to not think, feel, or say what she was about to. "I felt relieved that if we were to lose someone, it wasn't a Weasley. I couldn't help it." Ginny opened her eyes and looked at the Slytherin girl with a face that was pure, stark white. "I feel like a monster."

Daphne sat forward, gasping in disbelief. "Ginny, _Voldemort's_ the monster! Voldemort's the reason that there's so much suffering in the world. _He's_ the reason there's so much death and pain." Daphne caught herself thinking back to the conversation between Dumbledore and Snape just a few months ago.

The conversation in Snape's office.

The conversation in which the Headmaster revealed _why_ he had assisted Daphne's upbringing all these years—

(_Stop it. Don't do this._)

(_Not __now._)

"You're only a witch. You're a witch whose entire family's in the middle of a war. And there's no guarantees about who'll get hurt or who'll die or . . . or _anything_!" It was Daphne's turn to shake her head. "But you didn't want anyone to die. You didn't send that curse into Moody's face. That was all Voldemort."

Ginny's head bobbed up and down in silence, but Daphne thought it was more to show she only heard her words, not that she fully believed them.

Ginny exhaled. "I don't think I ever really talked to Moody about . . . well, about anything. I mean, he was more than a little intimidating." Ginny gave Daphne a little lopsided grin. "_Constant_—"

"_Vigilance_!" Daphne finished. Both girls chuckled.

"But, you expect someone, a strong wizard like Moody to go down in battle." Ginny looked away to the other side of the room. "You just sort of know that the only way he's going down is in a fight because he's a warrior. He's never been anything _but _a warrior. That's how I've always known him. My brothers," Ginny's voice halted in her throat. "M-my brothers . . . my dad . . . They're not soldiers . . . they're _Weasleys_. They're supposed to live and have a million babies with red hair and brown or blue eyes and freckles and . . . they're supposed to bloody _live_!" Ginny's hand hit the bed, and she looked down at the simple pattern of moon and stars rotated around dark blue cloth. The sound of her fast, deep breaths filled Percy's bedroom.

"If anyone told you that you couldn't fight," Daphne started, slowly and quietly, "you'd rack 'em in the bollocks, wouldn't you?"

Ginny cocked her eyebrow at Daphne and snorted. "That I would."

"Right . . . so, I guess you get your, er . . . _spirit_ wherever your family gets theirs. Definitely a Weasley, through and through."

Ginny let herself laugh. "I see your point. We're all so . . . stubborn and thick-headed and . . . we fight, don't we?" Ginny let her eyes scan the room and she let out a breath. "Speaking of stubborn, I haven't seen Percy in so long. Merlin, he must hate us so much—"

"Honestly, Ginny," Daphne interrupted, "I don't think it's possible to be a part of this family and hate it. _Ever_." Daphne spoke firmly, causing Ginny to look at her with surprise. "What? It is possible for a Slytherin to actually admit that the Weasleys aren't all that bad." Daphne gave her a sly wink. Ginny chortled.

After a couple of moments of chuckling, Ginny grew serious once again. "I hope Percy's all right. I never really talk about him with anyone here. Mum cries every time one of us brings him up, and you can't have a conversation about Percy with Ron or the twins because their faces go all red and blotchy and they start swearing." Ginny's brows twitched. "I'll join them, depending on my mood, of course. But, I guess all I want is for someone to tell me he's all right."

"Your dad still sees him at the Ministry?"

Ginny nodded. "Mm-hm, but he never talks to him. They only stare at each other in the lifts or in the hallways every once in a while." Her chin shook, causing her teeth to hit each other. "All I want is to hear his voice and say that he loves us, that he still loves us. He doesn't even have to say he misses us . . . just that he loves us. And that he's okay."

Daphne felt herself getting choked up. "It's hard to admit you're wrong about something you believed in so intensely, even if you _know_ you're wrong." Ginny met Daphne's eyes. "Trust me, Ginny. I definitely think he'll surprise you one day."

Ginny smiled at her. "I hope so." Letting out a breath, Ginny climbed off the bed. "I'm off to bed. You'll be all right?"

Daphne nodded and smiled back at her. "Sleep well. Sleep _in._"

Ginny gave a small chuckle. "Yeah. Hey, thanks for listening to me."

Daphne nodded. "No problem. Y'might talk to Fleur too. She's pretty cool."

Ginny rolled her eyes but Daphne noticed she continued to grin. "Yeah, maybe." And with a wave, Ginny opened the door and left her brother's bedroom.

Lying back on the old pillows on Percy's bed, Daphne finally let sleep wash over her, feeling oddly comforted as she thought about the conversation she had just had with Ginny.

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**A/N: **Lupin's line to Harry is straight from _**Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows**_**,** U.S. Version, page 70 (2007). His line to Hermione about George's ear came from page 73 of the same edition. The line Hagrid yelled at Harry comes from the same page.


	9. Chapter 8: Just Another Weasley

**A/N: **I hope all the Ginny-fans in the audience like this one. For me, this was a scene I wanted to see in the last book: Ginny and her "Ginny-ness" just ripping away.

I have a new one-shot, _**Face**_, all about Lavender Brown after the Battle of Hogwarts, for the Reviews Lounge "Fanon Fact" Challenge.

I have another new one-shot, _**The Ravenclaw Three**,_ about the friendship and fraternity between Michael, Terry and Anthony. It fits in with the "_**. . . From Hell**_" series.

Rated T for language. I own nothing. A big thanks to stella8h8chang for her beta.

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**Chapter 8**:** Just Another Weasley**

"_Ow! _That's_ – my – __shoulder_!"

"How _else _am I supposed to get high enough?!"

"I dunno! Try doing it _without _causing me pain!"

Ginny Weasley was having a devil of a time trying to see if she could get above the bubble of the Muffliato Charm cast around Ron's bedroom. Of course, since Hermione must've been the one who'd cast it, the top-most limit of the spell could've been at any point beyond her reach.

Unfortunately, for Daphne Greengrass, whose shoulders _and _back were currently being used as a ladder, that meant a number of attempts involving Ginny's foot, Daphne's body . . . and a whole lot of discomfort.

"_OW_!" Daphne whispered again, however, the volume of her voice was inching up louder and louder.

"Well, if you'd just firm up your back—"

"My _back_ can't get firm or hard because _you _keep_ stepping on it_!"

"Dammit!" Ginny exclaimed. "We're never gonna be able to hear them." She put her hands on her hips while still holding her Extendable Ear and bit her lip. "There's gotta be some way to figure out what's going on in there." She nudged her head toward her brother's bedroom.

Daphne and Ginny had decided to try to eavesdrop on Harry, Ron and Hermione. They saw them enter Ron's bedroom surreptitiously after finally breaking free from Molly's demands and requests for wedding preparations. Unfortunately, their efforts were for naught, as the Muffliato Charm was just as imperturbable as an Imperturbable Charm.

Well, insofar as their Extendable Ears were concerned.

"Ah! It's hopeless." Daphne sighed.

"We'll just have to rummage through their things or something when they're not in there."

Daphne looked at Ginny, who appeared to be dead serious.

(_Damn! She can be right scary!_)

(_Was she bloody reading my mind?_)

Daphne snorted. "I was going to suggest the same thing."

"So, why don't we meet up the next time Mum has them working on something?"

"Sounds good—"

Daphne's voice was cut off as the door opened. Both girls gave a start as they faced the rather surprised faces of Harry, Ron and Hermione. The trio's surprise, however, melted into expressions of exasperation and annoyance with the two girls.

"So're you two out for a nice midday walk in the middle of our hallway?" Ron asked Daphne and Ginny.

"Well, Ginny here wanted to check on . . . er . . . this, um, _rusty hinge_ or, er, something . . . on your door." Daphne finished rather meekly.

"You were going to fix a rusty hinge with Extendable Ears, huh?" Harry cocked his eyebrow at the pair.

Ginny glared at him. Harry flinched at her expression. "You know what, Harry?" She sauntered up to him, her arms crossed against her chest. "We've got absolutely no idea what you three are planning. The only thing we _do_ know is that it involves abandoning Hogwarts and your families to do something Dumbledore asked you to do. We were only trying to see if we could help you lot out!"

"Ginny," Harry's voice became suddenly stern. "I understand that. But the one thing the _both_ of you can do for us right now is to stay out of it." He walked closer to her, and his face became as hard and as angry as hers had. "The less you two know, the better — this goes for you too, Daphne." Harry addressed Ginny's partner-in-crime, but he kept his eyes on Ginny, staring at her fiercely and determined not to falter.

Ginny and Harry continued their stare-down for a few minutes more . . . until Ginny was the first to break it. She hissed in frustration, and stomped into Ron's bedroom.

"Hey, runt!" Ron followed her back inside his room. "Did I tell you _you_ could come in?"

Ginny ignored his angry tone and sat down on his bed, letting out a sigh, heavy with disappointment. "I feel so bloody _useless_." She shook her head. "Just . . . tell me something. Tell _us_ something that we can do to help you!" She gestured wildly between her and Daphne, who, for a surprising change of pace, managed to keep whatever snarky comments down. She was all too satisfied to allow Ginny the spotlight.

(_Might as well blend in._)

(_Ginny looks like she's ready to start some shi—_)

"Ginny, we can't—"

"Why? Because of _Dumbledore, _right?" Ginny stopped and pinched the bridge of her nose. " Shit! I'm . . . I'm sorry." She shook her head. "It's just bloody frustrating to feel like you're the only one not contributing, that you're the only one not doing anything to help out."

Daphne swallowed.

(_Just like I did. . . . just like I didn't go after Malfoy harder last year._)

(_The runt may be annoying, but at least she fought with them that night._)

(_I just sat in the Slytherin common room and got pissed with Blaise!_)

She averted her eyes so no one would see that they were growing fairly wet.

Ginny looked back up at Harry, Ron and Hermione and continued. "My family, my friends — _none _of you need me. None of you need _us_." Ginny lamely pointed toward Daphne's direction.

Daphne took a breath, and the four teens turned their attention to her. "I . . . I just . . . I fucked up last year."

Ron shook his head. "We've been over this. It was my fault Bill was hurt, and it was your fault not finding out about Malfoy . . ." He shrugged without a hint of amusement. "Two faults should cancel each other out."

Daphne grunted and shook her head. "I should've been there with you guys." She pushed off the wall and started pacing in Ron's room. "I wasn't there at the Astronomy Tower. I didn't help you lot fight Greyback, the Death Eaters, Malfoy . . . _Snape_," she said as she crossed the length of the room all over again. "An-and I know what you're gonna say, that I shouldn't blame myself. _But_ if I had investigated my house more, and if I had just kept my blasted D.A. Galleon on me—"

"Malfoy might have found another way in." Hermione walked toward her. "It's absolutely no use blaming yourself for anything that happened last year. If you keep looking back at the past like that, you won't see what's right in front of you."

Daphne looked at Hermione with a troubled expression. "Still doesn't help me stop feeling like this." She shook her head. "Still doesn't help me stop feeling like I let people down." She stopped her pacing and leaned up against Ron's wardrobe.

Ginny took up their case. "We just . . . we need to do something for you. For _all _of you."

"What the two of you _can_ do for us, is to _not _do anything." Harry spoke up. He looked briefly at Daphne, and then turned back to Ginny.

Ginny addressed the rest of the room.

"Can you please give Harry and me a few minutes?"

Ron was a bit disgruntled — either at Ginny and Harry being alone in a room since breaking up, or at being kicked out of his own room. He walked out, grumbling under his breath about being ordered around by a little twerp. Daphne and Hermione both followed him out the door.

Once they shut the door to Ron's bedroom, he turned to Daphne, giving her a sad smile. "Last one to stop blaming themselves for absolutely _everything_ is a pile of dragon dung." He tried to keep his voice light, but there were definite melancholy undertones to his voice.

"Do we really suck _this _much, Ron?" She looked at him with a pathetic expression.

Ron could only shrug.

"Oh, _stop it_! Both of you." Hermione stomped toward them. "Did you not hear me in there?" she asked Ron. "_Both_ of you need to stop dwelling on what happened in the past, and focus on the present and what all of us need to do." Hermione's eyes traveled between Daphne and Ron. "We've _all_ made mistakes before, but no one, single mistake was the cause for anything that happened last year. Please," Hermione said, her hand grabbing a hold of one of Daphne's and one of Ron's, "all this talk that anything that happened is your fault is coming from _you_, and you alone. Ron," Hermione said, pumping his hand up and down as she spoke to him, "it won't do Harry any good if you allow any of your self-blame to affect you."

Daphne noticed Ron wince and face darken in an odd way when Hermione mentioned Harry.

"Daphne, there is no one — absolutely _not one of us — _that honestly believes that the attack on Hogwarts was because you didn't do enough—"

"But I _should've_ done more, Hermione! I can't tell if didn't look hard enough, or investigate Malfoy more because I didn't _want _to know, or I was in denial or . . . or, something—"

Hermione shook her head. "Just think, though. Malfoy was helping out witches and wizards far more powerful than him, and _Snape _was in Hogwarts that night anyway. Snape would've found a way to carry out the plan to kill Dumbledore, no matter if they used the Vanishing Cabinets or not." Hermione looked at both Daphne and Ron and sighed. "Let's just leave this for right now." She looked back at Ron's bedroom door, which was now shut, giving Harry and Ginny some privacy. "Let's go downstairs and help your Mum out with some chores."

"B-but what about . . ." Ron thumbed at the shut door.

Hermione shook her head and tugged on his shirt. "They're both old enough to control themselves—"

"_Explain_ to _me_ what you mean by 'controlling themselves'?!" Ron exclaimed. Hermione tutted and dragged him down the stairs, followed closely by Daphne.

* * *

It was Ginny's turn to pace in Ron's bedroom.

She had just kicked out her brother, Hermione, and Daphne so she could have this little tête-à-tête with her ex-boyfriend.

Now she was thinking about what she wanted to say to Harry. She didn't want what little time he still had at the Burrow to be sullied by an argument with her.

But there were things she had to get off her chest.

"Er . . . Ginny?"

Ginny halted and faced him. Her chin was in her hand as she had been rubbing it in order to get her thoughts in order.

She took a deep breath.

"Do you know what it's like to sit to the side and watch you and Ron and Hermione planning and plotting and preparing, and feel helpless because I can't go with you?"

Harry creased his brow and shook his head. "Ginny—"

"No, no. Let me talk." Ginny walked toward him, her face inches from Harry. "You three have your task ahead of you, and it wasn't something you chose to do, but it _is_ something you _have_ to do. Fine." Ginny kept her voice steady. "I've come to terms with that. I've had a _bit_ _of_ _time_ to deal with that." She walked toward the window that looked out over the paddock. "If I just let all three of you walk away from here and fight on your own, without forcing you to take me along—" Ginny shook her head and looked down at the floor. "I already feel worthless in this whole thing . . . I already feel like everyone's trying to keep me out of harm's way, and Bill's almost lost part of his face, and George _did _lose part of his head. Sirius and Dumbledore and Cedric all died—" Ginny turned to face Harry, and she knew she was about to cry because her chin trembled; a dead giveaway just before her tears would break. "What's the point in keeping me safe when others are fighting and dying? Why shouldn't I give myself to the cause, to _help _you?"

She moved closer to Harry.

"I can't watch you take my brother, my best friend _and_ yourself into war. I can't just sit back and watch all of you march to probable _death_! I can't do it and not feel this _need_ to be a part of it."

Ginny had closed the space between her and Harry. Before she even realized it, her hands were on his chest. She was breathing in short, quick bursts and she kept looking at him.

Just looking at him.

"G-Ginny," Harry stuttered, clearly having trouble finding the right words to say. "It might be unfair to you to watch everything that's happening. To not be a part of it, even though people really close to you are." Harry, apparently unable to help himself, stepped closer to Ginny, their noses nearly touching each other's. "But you have _no _idea at all what you being alive means to me, what it means to your family, to Ron and Hermione."

Harry blinked for a long time and brought his hand up to touch her cheek. Ginny shut her eyes and leaned into his palm.

"You know I have to do this," he said quietly, almost in a whisper. "Dumbledore said I could let Ron and Hermione in, but no one — and I mean _no – one — _else. That includes any of your family, Lupin, or any member of the Order."

Ginny opened her eyes. "But _why _the _hell_ does that mean I can't fight!" She turned sharply around. "You've bloody _seen _me cast spells, or hex the buttocks off of Malfoy and his cronies. I _fought_ with you and Ron and Hermione, and I only came away with a busted ankle! _And I was there last year_!" She spoke in a whispered, but harsh, tone. "I fought those Death Eaters too, just like Neville and Ron and the Order did. What's changed since then, since a month ago, that _now _I can't fight?!"

Harry let out a groan. "Do you honestly think the battle's gonna just be with Ron and Hermione and me?" He fell onto the corner of Ron's bed. "We're all in the middle of a war, and there's always gonna be a battle that has to be fought. And, as much as I don't want you anywhere near it, it'll touch you no matter what. And so long as Voldemort's alive, so long as he's in power, there's little I can do to make sure you're protected—"

"I don't _need _your bloody protection, Harry Potter! I need to _help_!"

"_Ginny_! _I _need you to be safe." Harry stood up and stalked over to her. "There's no way I can do what I need to do to save the whole bloody world if you're not safe!" Harry blurted out. "This whole world wants me, expects _me _to save it, but I would give it all up if it meant you and your family were out of harm's way!"

He shook his head. "The closer I'm to you and to your whole family, the more dangerous it is for _all_ of you. The Death Eaters will have you in their sights, if they don't already." Harry chanced a couple of steps toward her. "I-I . . ." He tore his eyes away from Ginny. "Ron and Hermione are of-age, and so am I—"

"_Don't_ – _forget_," Ginny spat out, "that I fought with you and Ron _and_ Hermione. You-Know-Who almost _killed me_! He made me _hurt people_," she said in a harsh and low tone. "I have seen and felt _and _fought things that _no one _should ever have! I am _not_ some precious flower that _you_ have to keep safe, that _you_ have to watch to make sure its petals don't fall off or are destroyed! You can't protect me from everything—"

"But I can do my very bloody best to!" Harry thrust his face toward Ginny. "Do not think for one second that I don't believe that you're a capable witch. You _are_! But, right now, there's too much at stake, and for me to succeed, I need you with your parents. _They _need you . . . b-bec- . . . because . . ." And here, Harry's voice caught in his throat, as if his own body prevented him from saying exactly what he was about to say.

Ginny's face softened and she spoke in a low voice and gentler tone than she had used before. "Because they need to know that they can still keep one of their children safe and away from the war? Is that what you were about to say?"

He raised his eyes, so that she could see his green irises peering at her over the dark rims of his glasses. Harry huffed out a breath, the hair grazing his forehead moving along with the air, dancing just so along his lightning-bolt shaped scar.

"Something like that, Gin."

Ginny bowed her head. "The worst feeling in the world is feeling powerless . . . helpless . . . worthless." She shook her head. "That's what I felt when I was possessed by Riddle's diary. It's what I feel every day while I'm here." She looked back up and met Harry's eyes. "I can't help it. And it doesn't matter how many people tell me I _can't _fight, I _can't_ do this and I _can't_ do that . . . it hurts me. I see my father and my brothers all going out to fight, and I'm the one left behind." She raised one eyebrow to Harry. "I know _you _know what that feels like."

"That's not fair, Ginny—"

Ginny shrugged. "Then it's not fair. But it's how I feel, and I can't stop feeling like this, and the only way it's going to stop is if you let me fight."

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, the silence thick with unspoken thoughts and frustration with this interminable stalemate.

Ginny's snort broke the quiet air. "Doesn't change anything, does it?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm still going to do what I need to do. Ron and Hermione are of age, and you've got to follow what your family asks you to do. You're still not of age yet, Ginny. And . . ." Harry swallowed, "and if you were to come with us, there's no doubt you would be a target to get to me. Hands down."

Ginny gave a little shake of her head, as if trying to brush off the inevitable conclusion of their conversation. "I suppose I can't even ask you when you expect to set off, can I?"

"Not a chance."

Letting out a deep breath, Ginny slowly moved toward the door to Ron's bedroom. She stopped, just as her hand reached out for the doorknob. "I still do, Harry." Ginny looked back over her shoulder, meeting Harry's eyes yet again. "You know that right?"

Without waiting for an answer or a gesture from him, Ginny opened the door and walked away.


	10. Chapter 9: Before the Wedding

**A/N: **The next two chapters are heavier on the humor than the drama; consider it a respite of sorts.

To my male readers and fans of Fleur Delacour: I do hope that you enjoy the following chapter. It's a bit heavy on the female bonding moments, but the dialogue and experiences are based on personal moments that I've enjoyed with my own family. And Fleur in this chapter is based on my older sister, whom I love and adore!

I know I've seen Gingersnap as one of Ginny's nicknames before in other stories . . . but for the life of me, I can't remember. So thank you, out there, to whomever thought of that name first. It's so appropriate!

Please check out my two newest one-shots: _**Face**_, about a Lavender Brown post-Battle of Hogwarts, and _**The Ravenclaw Three**_, about the friendship between Michael Corner, Terry Boot, and Anthony Goldstein. I've been told I understand teenage boys quite well. Which scares me . . . a little.

I own nothing. Thanks to stella8h8chang, for the beta.

* * *

**Chapter 9: ****Before the Wedding **

"Mum, you missed a spot."

"Where?"

Ginny walked over, munching on a bag of Wizard Crisps (each chip was a different flavor, depending on the mood of the person eating them). She pointed her toe at the piece of lacy hem that her mum hadn't pinned.

Daphne stood stock still, pins sticking into her wrists, marking where Molly Weasley needed to alter the robe's fitted sleeves. She did her absolute best to stifle a groan of impatience. She had been a bit surprised when Molly had offered some old dress robes of hers to wear for the wedding. Molly had referred to the selections as "vintage" and had picked out the ones that she'd thought had potential as wedding-appropriate garb. A couple had caused Daphne to snort in derision, but she'd managed to narrow down the selections to three possible choices.

Ginny had popped into the room and suggested that Daphne pick the long dress robe made entirely of lavender, crocheted lace with a full-length cream-colored slip to line the inside.

After a few moments of jabbing pins here and there and laughing at Daphne's _very_ obvious discomfort with being fitted, Molly and Ginny stood back to admire the dress robes on the Slytherin girl.

"Hmm . . ." Molly smiled and hummed in satisfaction. "You _look _quite_—"_

"Oh _goodness_!" The three women turned and saw Hermione Granger walk into the room, clutching a bottle of butterbeer. "Daphne, is that what you're wearing to the wedding?" She sat on the main bed, and Daphne returned her grin.

Daphne stuck her hip out and held her palm up by her face. "Stunning, aren't I?"

Ginny laughed. "And modest to boot!"

"I think this is really pretty — it's got a very classic look to it."

"Thank you, Hermione." Molly patted her head. "By any definition, it _is_ a classic; I was seventeen years old when I got this set of robes from my parents." Molly bustled around the girls to set her pin cushion and sewing kit on her dresser. "I wore this on the first date I had with Arthur after we graduated." Molly sighed. "We went for a dinner at this little wizarding restaurant that went out of business after the First War. Afterwards, Arthur took me for a stroll around this lovely garden area." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if she were smelling a flower. "I even got him to dance with me on a small white bridge . . . the moon was gleaming and he kissed me," Molly touched her lips with the tips of her fingers. "So wonderful! my toes curled up and I just shook all over like jelly—"

Molly snapped out of her reverie as her daughter and Daphne made retching sounds and mock-fainted. Hermione sat on the bed with a goofy grin spreading across her face.

Molly narrowed her eyes. "_Well_ . . . I'd be _just fine_ if you wore a burlap sack. Let me run down to the pantry and find you one—"

Daphne immediately stopped making the retching gesture and Hermione nudged Ginny with her elbow. Daphne hopped off her stool. "Er, I-I mean . . ." she stammered, "that it sounds like you and Mr. Weasley had a positively _smashing _courtship, and I couldn't be happier that the two of you are so wonderfully matched and perfect." She finished by plastering on the absolutely most insincere grin that she had ever given to anyone.

Molly hummed and chuckled. "Flattery will get you everywhere." Patting her cheek and continuing to giggle, Molly took a final appraisal of Daphne in her old dress robes. "I think we've got where it needs to be on you. It's quite lovely, too."

Daphne turned and looked at herself in the full-length Magical Mirror. She was rather impressed with the dress robes. Molly, with Ginny's running commentary as a backseat tailor, had managed to take in a bit of the waist to give the robes some shape, and shorted length a bit so that the bottom of the robes grazed the top crest of Daphne's feet. The color was dark enough to complement her slightly darker skin, but light enough to be appropriate for an afternoon wedding.

(_Eurgh! What the hell do I do with my hair?_)

(_Stringy, clumpy pile of crap that it is . . ._)

As if reading her mind, Molly came up to Daphne. "You know what would be nice? Daphne, do you mind if I try something with your hair?"

Daphne shook her head. "Please. Be my guest!"

"We could do half of your hair down and the other half up in a little bun," Molly said, standing on the other side of Daphne. "We can curl the bottom part of her hair a little bit too. What do you think?"

Daphne was just about nod, when—

"I theenk it ees a _great_ idea, Molly!"

Fleur Delacour had just entered the bedroom, Levitating one tray with glasses and a one rather large wine bottle and couple of butterbeers, and another tray filled with fresh cheeses, biscuits, and some fruit.

"What's all this?" Molly asked her future daughter-in-law.

"Eet ees jus' my way of thanking all of you wiz such 'ard work?" Fleur Conjured up a side table and placed the trays on them. "All work an' no play makes everyone sad. So, I want all of you to eat and drink and we should talk!"

Ginny reached for a wine glass . . . until Molly smacked her hand.

"_Ow_!"

"_You_, my still-not-of-age daughter, get the butterbeer!" Molly pointed her finger and shook it vigorously at Ginny, who took a bottle of the weaker stuff that Fleur handed to her, while grumbling under her breath.

Molly, Fleur, Hermione and Daphne each took a glass, and Fleur tipped the bottle so that each glass got approximately the same amount.

"So . . . to all of our 'ealths, 'earts, and 'appiness!" She raised her glass in a toast. The others followed suit, and they each took sips of their respective drinks. Just over the top of her glass, Daphne noticed Ginny's eyes widen after she took her sip. Ginny looked over at Fleur; the French witch gave Ginny a small wink.

The girls slid into seats in the bedroom and Daphne went behind the changing screen so she could return to her normal Muggle clothes and not mess up her "new" dress.

* * *

"There _will _be dancing at this shin-dig, right?" Ginny asked the room, with a bit of a hiccup. Daphne grinned; she suspected that the "butterbeer" Fleur had handed to Ginny had had a small "surprise" for the girl. Daphne just wasn't sure if Fleur had put a little wine in the bottle or maybe firewhisky. Either way, it was quite amusing to watch Ginny grow more and more giggly as they sat in Molly and Arthur's bedroom, drinking, eating and gabbing away.

"Why, of course . . . dancing 'as always been a big part of our weddings." Fleur, laying on her side on the floor, flourished her hand gracefully. "I do not mean to toot my own 'orn, but I am quite zee dancer."

"How's Bill with dancing?" Hermione asked Fleur. Daphne noticed that she had finished her own glass of wine, and her cheeks were quite a bit more red than usual.

Fleur barked out a laugh. "Molly, I mean no disrespect at all—"

"Oh, I'd love to hear whether my son can cut a rug." Molly brought her fingers up to her mouth to stifle a hiccupping laugh.

"—'E is a bit . . . 'ow do you say . . ." Fleur swirled her hand around in circles.

The others leaned in, anticipating an answer.

"'E 'as two left feet."

The ladies fell backwards and laughed.

"Bill? Really?" Daphne looked at Fleur incredulously. "Not a dancer, eh?"

Fleur snickered as she shook her head. "_Non_. 'E ees a bit stiff. 'As absolutely no rhythm. 'E is still adorable, t'ough . . . make no mistake about zat!" She gave an overly serious look to the still giggling women and sipped the last bit of wine in her glass.

"Oh, Fleur, top me off would you?" Molly held out her glass to give her better access with the wine bottle. Fleur complied with the request.

"I'm not much of a dancer myself," Daphne piped up. She was feeling a bit giddy and light-headed from just polishing off her glass. "Guess I'll just bop along to the music or something and watch the festivities." She allowed Fleur to fill up goblet.

"Or, maybe we should invite _Mister_ _Corner_ to the wedding?" Ginny asked slyly.

Daphne spluttered into her wine.

"As in _Michael Corner_?" Molly asked. "Was he the boy that you were with two years ago?"

Ginny nodded. "Yup! And apparently, he's got himself a thing for our . . . wait, what does he call you, Daphne? Ah! Our _fair Miss Greengrass_!"

Daphne blushed as Fleur, Ginny and Hermione "ooohed" in exaggerated teasing.

"Ginny," Molly gently chided, "I think she's embarrassed."

Daphne coughed into her wine. "No big deal . . . we're just friends right now—"

"Friends who share empty classrooms and _alone _time together?" Ginny said, moving her head to and fro, hiccuping again and taking another swig of the butterbeer. Daphne shot her a glare and briefly wished her head would explode.

"_Quiet_, you little twerp—"

Ginny snorted in tipsy amusement. "You s-ssound like Ron!" She pushed her lips with her fingertips and shot a quick glance to Molly, who didn't seem to notice the rolling "s" coming out of Ginny's mouth.

"No, _you _sound like Ron," Daphne retorted.

"Ginny, let Daphne be . . . if she doesn't want to talk about her _friend_, she doesn't want to talk about her friend."

Hermione sighed and stared at the wall ahead of her. "I hope Ron's a good dancer. I would love to dance with him." When she looked back down, she saw the three younger women looking back at her with amused smirks. Molly looked at her with a broad grin on her face.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?"

They nodded.

Hermione looked at her now-empty glass. "I've only had _one_ of these. Fleur, what in the world wine is this?"

"Eet ees a Chablis -- _Côte de Léchet Premier Gru Chablis, 1996_, to be exact," Fleur said as she read the label. "My mother actually prefers Muggle wines to magical beverages. She says zat zere are few things in zis world that magic should not mess wiz. One eez wine, and zee other is cheese." She took a bite of softened Brie and shut her eyes, entering gastronomical heaven. "I must agree wiz her on both points."

Daphne nodded vigorously. "Hear hear!" She herself had grown quite fond of ripened Brie and wine.

"Maybe I should cut back—"

"Oh, 'ermione," Fleur sat up, "relax. You are wiz family, _non_?" Daphne watched as Hermione blushed even more, making her face resemble a strawberry. "You will be okay around us . . . plus, I do not think your feelings for Ron are quite a secret around here. Or vice versa." Fleur shot her a knowing look and grin.

Hermione took back her refilled glass and continued sipping from it.

"So," Ginny piped up, "Ron can't have been the only bloke you fancied."

Hermione nearly choked on her beverage. "_Ginny_!"

"It's a legitimate question, Hermione. Who else do you think is good looking?" Ginny goaded her. She made a rather belligerent drunk.

Belligerent . . . but amusing.

"Actually," Daphne interrupted, and Hermione turned her shocked expression toward her. "I'm rather curious myself."

Molly giggled. "I can tell you, when I was your age, I thought there were so many attractive boys. None held a candle to your father, of course," she gave Ginny a sappy look and Ginny rolled her eyes and mimed chucking up with her finger, "but there's nothing wrong with looking!"

"So c'mon, _Granger_ . . . spill it!" Daphne bounced up and down in excited anticipation.

"Well, we all _know _about Krum." Ginny held up one finger.

"Oooh. Wasn't 'ermione zee most important thing to Vicktor?"

Ginny nodded and waggled her eyebrows at Hermione.

"I hate you," Hermione mumbled and glared at her.

"You _love_ me. You know it!"

Hermione continued to stare daggers at Ginny. Shutting her eyes tightly, the bushy-haired girl let out a sigh. "_Shaymerfiggan . . ._" Hermione muttered indecipherably into her wine glass.

"_Wait_! What was that?" Daphne and Ginny had identical smirks on their faces.

Hermione pursed her lips together and shook her head. "I already said it—"

"Oh please! Maybe in Mermish you said it, but I couldn't hear a thing!" Daphne interrupted.

"Seamus, all right?" Hermione said exasperatedly. "I thought Seamus was fit! Happy?" She raised her eyebrow sarcastically.

"Aww, Hermione. I could've set you two up and we could've double dated with Dean and him."

"Oh sure," Hermione lowered her eyebrows in a sarcastic manner. "If only I had been single last year instead of dating your _brother. _ Believe me, Ginny, I'll take Ron any day over a horny Irish chap whose basic modes of functioning consists of eating, sleeping _and_ shagging!" Hermione was just about to take a big drink of her wine, when she saw Molly's rather shocked face. She spat out beverage back into the glass

"Goodness!" Hermione said, looking at the wine. "Who needs Veritaserum when you're drinking this?"

Molly looked at her with an expression of disbelief, which melted into chuckling and gave way straight into giggling.

"Oh, Hermione," Molly said through her fit of amusement, wiping her eyes. "You're very entertaining!"

"_Mum_! Where the bloody hell are you?" The five women's heads turned toward the direction of the hallway, and watched as Ron and Harry's heads poked into the bedroom. They were greeted with the sight of Daphne and Ginny grinning devilishly at them, Fleur waving lazily, Hermione blushing and hiccupping, and Molly smiling at them.

"Oh, _there's _my baby boy!"

Ron took one look at the whole situation and shook his head vigorously.

"_Nope_! No, no, no." He turned back around to Harry and pushed for him to walk back down the hallway.

"Ron, wha—"

"They're all in there, drinking and eating and talking. You don't enter a room like that as a bloke and expect to make it out alive. Or with your manhood still attached."

"_Hey_!" Ginny exclaimed.

"We 'eard _zat_!" Fleur shouted at them.

"Cowards," Hermione muttered.

The women all laughed.

* * *

"_Whoo-hoo! _Yeah! Bill and _Fleur_! Hope she's knows what she's getting into!" Charlie Weasley yelled and playfully punched his older brother.

The Weasleys and Harry were in the backyard of the Burrow laughing and being entertained by Charlie's antics. Daphne and Ginny had just walked back out of the house; they had spent the last few minutes trying to convince Hermione not to go to bed just yet.

But all of the excitement of the day had finally managed to catch up to the bushy-haired girl, and Hermione insisted that she needed to rest.

Although Daphne and Ginny both strongly suspected that Hermione wanted to get right into that barmy _Beedle the Bard_ book.

"The first one in our family to get married," Charlie said, slapping Bill's back hard, and shook his shoulder even harder, "I'm so bloomin' proud of ya, mate!"

Bill smirked at him. "Yeah . . . well, Mum won't stop going off on why no girl's managed to make you an honest man, or why you failed to get a date for the wedding yourself."

Charlie gave his older brother a flat look. "The only females I'm around with for any long period of time are dark, scaly and have a bit of a fire-breathing problem. You suggesting I should bring one of them?"

"Fair point," Fred interrupted. "Plus, Charlie wouldn't want to be upstaged by a date better-looking than him!"

"Oh, you'd better start runnin', ya mangy git!" And Charlie chased Fred around the backyard, the yelling, whistling, and goading for a good brawl coming from the other Weasleys.

After a few moments of running around in circles, Charlie saw that Ginny and Daphne had joined them. "_Gingersnap_!" Charlie threw his arms wide open and lifted Ginny up as she ran to hug him.

"You need to come up with a better nickname," she said as he dropped her to the ground. "By the way," she smacked him hard on the arm, "it took you long enough to get here."

"_Hey_!" Charlie rubbed at the spot Ginny had just hit. "Some of us have things called _occupations_ where you go and have responsibilities and get paid actual money." He crossed his arms. "Makes it a _bit_ hard to take time off and all that. Not like _some_ little sisters that I know of that get whole summers off." He ruffled her hair.

"Whatever," Ginny swatted away his big hand. "You just love _dragons_! You love them _so_ much, you should go _marry _them!"

Charlie snorted. "The hell? Are you pissed, Gin?"

Ginny refrained from answering, hiccupped, and skipped to join the rest of her brothers and Harry, who gave her the most gobsmacked expressions.

"I don't think we were properly introduced," Charlie addressed Daphne and stuck his hand out for a shake. "Charlie Weasley—"

"Resident prat."

Charlie shot a glare at a gleeful George. "Ignore them. They're just jealous that I'm better-looking than they are."

Daphne chortled. "Daphne Greengrass. Heard a lot about you."

"Don't worry, Chuckie, it was all bad—" Fred yelled out.

"_Prat – prat – prat – prat – prat – PRAT_!" George sang under his breath.

Charlie rolled his eyes at the twins. "Heard that you're, like, the Employee-of-the-Month or something at the joke shop?"

Daphne nodded. "Er . . . if you mean 'Worst Employee,' then yeah."

"Oh, we love this girl!" Fred came over a put an arm around her. "Who had _any_ idea that Slytherins made such _excellent _testing subjects for our new products, hmmm?"

"Plus, she's more effective as a theft deterrent for those kiddies who try to nick our shit." George threw his arm around Daphne's other side. "Those _eight_ and _nine-_year-olds have _nothin' _on her kneazle-like reflexes—"

"Or lightning speed!" finished Fred.

It was Daphne's turn to roll her eyes. "So you're into dragons, huh?"

"In more ways than one—" Fred muttered, snickering.

"Yeah, they get a bum rap by most of our society, but dragon's are wicked smart creatures. Really interesting—"

"Not to mention a good way to spend a Friday night, right _Chuckles_?" Fred smacked his shoulder.

"Talk about a . . . _HOT DATE_!" George piped up. There was a collective groan from the audience.

Charlie nudged Daphne with his elbow. "When casual Apparition and Portkey-travel gets a bit safer, you should come up with the family to the reserve. I guarantee that you'll never be bored!"

Daphne grinned. "Cheers! That sounds like a plan."

Charlie looked around. "Hey! aren't we missing one? Where's your girlfriend, Ron?"

Daphne watched as Ron's face blushed violently. "Sh-sh-she's not—" he spluttered.

Charlie looked over at Bill and arched his eyebrow. "Stuttering's a tell-tale giveaway, Ronnie." Charlie slapped his younger brother on the back and leaned over to him. "Sorry, mate, if I embarrassed ya. But," Charlie stood back up. "Where's Hermione?"

"She's resting." Ginny finished.

"Beauty sleep, and all that," Daphne mumbled.

Bill snorted. "This have anything to do with the Muggle wine that Fleur brought upstairs for an impromptu 'hen party'?"

Ginny wiggled her eyebrows. "Well, possibly that _and _the book Dumbledore gave her."

Ron smiled. "That girl never met a book she didn't like."

"Ah! My _family,_" Charlie said, stretching his arms far above his head. His smile melted into a warm expression. "I've really missed all of ya. _Really_ _missed_ you guys . . . and Gin." He gave his little sister a wink. Charlie's smile faltered a bit and he turned his eyes to the ground. "Has," he said quietly, coughing a bit, "h-has anyone heard from Percy?"

Daphne saw all the Weasley siblings' faces fall, and even Harry stiffened upon hearing Percy's name.

Charlie shrugged awkwardly. "Sorry, I just didn't want to bring him up with Mum and Dad—"

"He won't talk to Dad," Bill said, "Percy basically ignores him at work. And if I run into him at the Ministry, or if I see him _anywhere _around Gringotts or Diagon Alley, he changes direction faster than a troll that's just smelled fresh meat." Bill shook his head. "He doesn't want anything to do with us, Charlie."

Charlie's jaw flexed. "Well, maybe I should try—"

"Why would you want to?" Fred cut in.

"He turned his back on Mum and Dad. That prat — that _stupid_, buttock-faced _prat _— gave his jumper back to Mum!"

"Charlie, you've gotta admit . . . it's takes a new type of 'arsehole' to return a_ Weasley jumper_! I mean," George gestured to Daphne, "_she's _even got one! A bloody _Slytherin_ got a Weasley jumper and didn't even return it!"

"I'm. Right. _Here_." Daphne said through gritted teeth.

"Greengrass, I was complementing you. Mister _Big Head Boy_'s an idiot." George shrugged and smirked at Daphne. "You're just a git that we _love _to torture."

Daphne flashed him the two-finger salute.

"Well, none of this changes the fact that he's our brother." Charlie crossed his arms and gave his siblings a serious look. "I mean we're in the middle of a bloody war, and all I can think about is what if something were to happen to Percy, or to _any_ of us, and we weren't talking to him." Charlie's eyes passed over the faces of his family, Harry and Daphne. The twins and Ron looked positively thunderous, but they remained quiet.

Bill thumped Charlie on the back. "Do what you need to do." Giving him a couple of pats, Bill turned back toward the house. "Big day tomorrow. I'm calling it a night." He yawned and stretched his arms. Daphne couldn't help but be reminded of Ron as Bill scratched his stomach.

"You're getting old. Can't even stay up til half past eleven!"

"I've also got me one helluva woman in there, _Chuckles_," Bill nodded toward the Burrow, "so, if you don't mind. . . . _Gentlemen_. _Ladies_." And with a glint in his eyes, Bill entered the house.

Charlie Weasley turned back to the others and shook his head. "Prat," he said, with a lopsided smile on his face.


	11. Chapter 10: The Happiest Day

**A/N: **If you have not yet done so, please check out my two most recent one-shots, _**Face ** _and _**The Ravenclaw Three**_.

I own nothing. Thanks to JJ Rust for the inspiration to have Daphne "usher" at Bill and Fleur's wedding, even if spectacularly unsuccessful! And thanks to stella8h8chang for beta-ing this chapter (as she has done for this entire story now!)

* * *

**Chapter 10: The Happiest Day of Their Lives**

"_Dammit_!"

Ginny brushed off the train of her gold bridesmaid dress. The thing kept getting wrinkled and her legs kept getting tangled up in it.

"Stupid dress. Hate this eff—"

"Stop it!"

Ginny looked up, expecting to be reprimanded for her language. Peering into the room at her right, she saw her brother, Bill, talking to someone very sternly.

"I can't help it, Bill. I can't help feeling—"

"Ron, listen. You can't keep beating yourself up like this."

"I was bloody there!" Ginny heard Ron growl, "I could've stopped Greyback from attacking you." Ginny could hear Ron swearing and pacing about the room.

"But you went to help Ginny."

Ginny closed her eyes, swallowing a lump that had appeared in her throat. She steadied her breathing; she didn't want to alert them to her presence.

Ron didn't seem like he could respond to Bill's point. Instead, he continued to mutter to himself, and Ginny heard a series of thuds as his shoes hit the wall.

"You did the absolute _right_ thing." Ginny noticed Bill's voice, softening as he went to stand by Ron, trying to assuage his guilt. "If we had to do this whole thing again . . . if we had to fight them today, I would have done everything _exactly_ the same. I would've done everything in my power to keep you and Ginny safe. And I would've expected you to look after her."

"You should listen to him, prat." Ginny finally stepped through the doorway.

Ron's brow darkened. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to hear you continuing to blame yourself." Ginny shook her head. "Ron, Bill's right about all of it. Don't keep doing this to yourself. Don't keep thinking this was your fault."

"Had I been in your shoes, I would've done whatever I needed to do to look after Ginny." Bill put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "This family's always been about looking out for its younger siblings. I looked out for Charlie. He looked out for Percy. We all looked out for you . . . and you took care of Ginny—"

"Er . . . what about Fred and George?"

Bill shrugged at Ginny's question. "I just thought they were raised by a pack of wolves."

Ron and Ginny both snorted.

Bill chuckled for a little bit, and then his face fell. He chewed on his lip for a few moments, and she had to stifle a smile from popping out inappropriately on her face.

(_The prat's just like Ron sometimes._)

(_Or maybe it's Ron who's just like Bill?_)

Bill looked back up at his youngest brother. "You went to help our sister, Ron. Actually, I remember you yelling for me first. When Greyback had attacked me the first time." he gave Ron a sad smile. "You didn't run away from the fight, even though it wasn't your fight to face. You were worried about me _and_ your sister." Bill's eyes moved between him and Ginny for a few moments; she saw his eyes glisten in the mid-morning sun.

"Not only do you need to stop blaming yourself, but you need to know this," Bill said with such seriousness that Ron averted his eyes. "I am _so _bloody proud to be your brother. Even though I can't help but think of you as my baby brother, my . . . my Ickle Ronniekins," the two brothers stood face-to-face, both looking at each other, and Ginny noticed both of their eyes were growing more and more wet. "Ron, you've grown up—" Bill's voice hitched and Ginny's own chin shook as her eldest brother's did. "You _are _a man."

Ginny wiped at her eyes. She was certain her makeup was going to be smudged, but her tears couldn't be stopped; her heart swelled up as she stood here, bearing witness to Ron asking for forgiveness that didn't need to be given. And Bill, on his wedding day, making sure Ron would not walk out of this room carrying the tremendous burden of guilt upon his skinny shoulders.

She had never been more proud of either brother.

"B-Bill . . . I should've done more—"

Bill gave him the tightest and firmest hug he could possibly muster. He thumped Ron on the back a couple of times. "You were great, Ron. You did exactly what you needed to do. And I can't say it in many more ways than that."

Ron returned his brother's hug, and Ginny saw his shoulders shake a little bit.

The two Weasleys broke apart and wiped at each other's faces.

"Aw . . ." said Ron, in a rather strangled voice, "You're crying like a girl."

Bill smacked him across his chest, the heel of his palm still rubbing his wet eyes. "Hey! I'd watch it there. You're crying as much as I am."

Ron snorted and sniffled. He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Ginny cuffed him gently on his arm. "Ron — those're your dress robes!" However, she couldn't help but giggle.

Bill gestured over to Ginny. "C'mon, Gingersnap! Group hug?"

Ginny grinned and scurried quickly over to Bill and Ron and the eldest Weasley smothered his two youngest siblings in his long, strong arms.

* * *

"Bloody . . . stupid . . . _futu-i_!"

Daphne paused.

(_What the hell?_)

"Dammit! Dammit – dammit – _dammit_!"

She saw Charlie Weasley struggling with his tie in front of a _very _unhelpful hallway mirror. "Dearie, didn't your father ever teach you—"

"Yeah, but I apparently forgot!"

"_Well_!" the mirror huffed back at him.

"Er . . . Charlie?" Daphne walked toward the struggling Weasley brother. "Need help?"

Charlie looked at her with a rather desperate expression. "D'you know how to tie a tie?"

Daphne shook her head.

"Shite!" he huffed. He kept tugging and twisting the thing until the knot he thought he had made fell apart. The strip of fabric hung pathetically around his neck.

"Okay, can I borrow your hands for a sec?" Charlie didn't wait for an answer; instead, he grabbed her right hand and made her hold the part where the thing overlapped each other.

"Just hold it there for a moment—"

"Yeah, s'not like I was busy or anything."

Charlie flexed his jaw at Daphne's sarcastic tone. After a couple of minutes, he had managed to pull tight on the new bow that he had finally been able to knot with the extra set of hands.

"So, proper tie operation isn't something they teach you on the dragon reserve, eh?"

Charlie snorted and smirked. "Not a whole lot of dress robe functions when you're studying giant, fire-breathing reptiles." He patted down his dress robes. "Well? Do I look dashing enough?" and he flashed what he must have thought was a roguish grin.

It was Daphne's turn to snort. "Your fly's open."

Charlie's face flushed and he looked down. "Oh, balls!"

"Yes, indeed." She chuckled.

Glaring back up at her, Charlie readjusted himself. "Well?"

She nodded approvingly. "Manageable enough."

"Hey. Is that Mum's dress?"

Daphne looked down at her garb. "Um, yeah. Molly let me wear it today. I didn't have anything really _nice_, or anything really wedding-appropriate." Her hand brushed against the dress. "This is kinda pretty," she mumbled.

Charlie gave her an approving smile and two thumbs up. "Ya look good."

She blushed. "Th-Thanks."

"No problem. Let's get downstairs and see if they need anything." Charlie beckoned to Daphne and together, they made it down to the kitchen to see if there was anything that needed to be done before three o'clock — and to make sure the hors d'oeuvres tasted delicious before the guests arrived.

* * *

The first wizarding wedding she had ever been too also happened to be the first _actual_ wedding she had ever attended.

Daphne couldn't stop thinking about how pretty everything was. The marquee had been beautifully decorated with fresh flowers, golden chairs and a purple carpet that designated an aisle. The witches and wizards in attendance wore their absolute magical best. And everyone had genuine smiles permanently stuck to their faces.

Neither Auntie Muriel's accusation that Molly and Arthur had taken to adopting "common street urchins", nor clutching at her pearl necklace fearing Daphne would take it, had ruined her experience.

Nor had her brief, unsuccessful stint as an usher sullied her day.

"_Aargh_!" She had gotten thoroughly fed up with one very stubborn, very immature Weasley cousin who refused to stop running about the marquee and hitting the other guests with balled-up fists. Daphne had angrily shouted at the boy, "_S__it_ with your blasted family, or I'll magically suture a pair of troll testicles to your _chin_!"

Charlie and the twins had decided she might be better off dealing with people she was already familiar with, and had relieved her of her ushering duties.

However, Daphne found herself forgetting all the rough spots once the ceremony had started. And she couldn't suppress her smile, her euphoria as she watched Bill and Fleur become husband and wife, and then as she watched their reception unfold before her eyes.

"Weddings are wicked," she said, mostly to herself.

"They are, aren't they?"

Daphne looked over. Tonks was leaning against the pole next to her and gave her a wink.

"Wotcher, Daphne!"

Daphne grinned. "Enjoying yourself?"

Tonks sighed. "I am . . . I just sort of wish Remus and I had been able to have a wedding too. Nothing fancy like this, but something in front of our families and friends — er, well, the family and friends that're decidedly _not _involved in Death Eater activities." Tonks shook her head. "Would've been nice to have everyone there."

Daphne gave her a small smile. "At least the two of you are together."

Tonks wriggled her eyebrows. "Too right!" She sipped on her water. "You should go tear it up!" She gestured out towards the dance floor. "Go snag some single bloke out there or something and dance your little heart out—"

"Oh . . . er, I'm not really much of a dancer."

"Ah! Well, all _you_ need is a little spirit! Or _spirits_, as it were."

"Huh?"

Daphne watched as Tonks hustled up to a waiter and ordered a glass of firewhiskey for her. The Auror handed her the glass and raised her own up.

"A toast!"

Daphne lifted her glass. "Okay. What do we toast to?"

"To-_oo_ . . . ?" Tonks looked around with lips pushed to the right side of her face. "To life, love, and—"

"_Shagging_!"

Charlie Weasley's exclamation startled both Tonks and Daphne and they jumped up in the air, practically spilling their drinks.

"Dammit, Chuckles!" Tonks swatted at him while he laughed like a fool. "Don't do that!"

"So, what are you two lovelies gabbing about over here? And why the bloody hell did Remus leave you behind?" Charlie said as he kissed Tonks on her cheeks.

"He didn't . . . he's right here," came a soft, masculine voice behind them.

All three turned around and watched as Remus Lupin guided up next to his wife and slid his arm around her. Daphne noticed that, compared to his wife, who was just _glowing_, Lupin seemed—

(_Is _diminished _the appropriate word?_)

(_Depressed? Despondent?_)

"Remus! Doing all right?" Charlie held out his hand and Lupin shook it vigorously.

"Never better, Charlie." Lupin said in a softer, less enthusiastic voice. "Romania treating you well?"

"Can't complain. Dragon's are getting a bit restless, though. Typical summertime dragon-fever and hot-headedness."

Remus smiled and nodded at Charlie. "Daphne!" Lupin certainly sounded enthusiastic as he addressed her, but Daphne couldn't help but think that his face didn't quite match the forced enthusiasm his voice seemed to have. "How are you doing? Find any new Muggle tunes?"

Daphne flashed a genuine grin at Lupin. "I have actually. If you love The Beatles and The Who, I could recommend a couple of good, trendy Muggle bands that would give you some, er . . . credibility on the street," she said, smirking.

"Unfortunately, Daphne," Tonks said, eyeing Lupin very carefully, with a grin favoring the right side of her mouth, "he's more of a bloke with _traditional _tastes." She winked at him, and Lupin finally chuckled, his smile reaching his eyes.

He then looked at Tonks' drink. "Dora, dear, is that . . . ?"

"_Water_, Remus. It's just water with a little lemon."

"Oh . . . okay, fine." The band started in on a new song. "Dora," Lupin held out his hand to his wife, "would you give me the pleasure?"

"Thought you'd never ask!" Tonks plopped her glass in Charlie's hand. "Chuckles, you don't mind, d'ya?"

Charlie rolled his eyes and chuckled in amusement. "Could I stop ya if I tried?"

"Not if you wanted a face full of my Bleeding Blister Hex! I'll make that ugly mug as red as your hair!" Tonks pinched his cheeks together, squishing his face and causing his mouth to form a very misshapen "O".

"_Oi_!" Charlie said to the laughing Tonks and Lupin. "No way you can make _this _face ugly!" Smirking at them, he placed the glass on a tray held by a waiter just walking by.

"Quite the party!" Daphne spoke, rather loudly, as the music was continuing to swell.

"Looks like you're having your own _celebration_!" Charlie pointed to her half-full glass.

She nodded. "Trying to get into the _spirit_ _of_ _things_!" she shouted and raised her glass.

"Cheers, then! To new friends. And . . . Mum and Dad, for continuing to pick up strays!" Charlie guffawed and Daphne glared at him, but drank a big gulp of her beverage.

"Hey," Charlie said suddenly, and he grabbed her arm. "Look over there. Fred and George are trying to chat up some of Fleur's Veela friends. We should go over there and put an end to that, _tout de suite_! "

Giggling, Daphne downed the rest of her firewhiskey and followed Charlie out to the other side of the room.

Both Charlie and Daphne crept up behind Fred and George, who had allowed themselves to fall completely under the Veelas' charms.

"You and your bruzzer make 'ow much wiz your joke businezz?" one particularly beautiful Veela asked; her friend stood behind her, making sickly googly eyes at George.

"Well," Fred said, his thumbs holding onto the lapels of his fine dress robe, "I'm not one to brag, but let me just say that we have one of the _best _dragonskin wardrobes you'll find—"

"Okay," Charlie leaned towards Daphne, whispering, "on _two_, I want you to throw these," he put two small parcels in Daphne's hands, "in the vicinity of Fred and George's arses. On three, I'll cast the Bubble Charm. Got it?"

Daphne looked down at what Charlie had just given her, and a devilish grin grew on her face. She knew fully well where this was going to go. "Ab-sol-_lute_-ly!"

Charlie grinned. "Right . . . one – two –"

Daphne threw the small-range Fart Bombs right at Fred and George's buttocks.

"Wha' the—?!" Fred turned around . . . but he was too late.

Charlie's Bubble Charm enveloped Fred and George and the Veela girls; all four of the Bubble's captives were coughing and gagging. The two Veelas were fanning their faces and desperately trying to find a way out.

Charlie ran around to where the girls were. Flicking his wand a few times, Daphne watched as the two girls stumbled out of the Bubble — and right into Charlie's arms.

"Are you all right?" he asked them in a deep voice. Daphne stuffed her fist into her mouth to muffle her laughter.

"_Oh_!" exclaimed one of the Veela.

"Ou-_Oui_, Monsieur. _Merci_!" The other Veela who had been goggling at George now looked at Charlie as if he were the last wizard standing and she had gone without any companionship for the past two years. Her friend was also giving Charlie the hungriest of stares.

"Mmm. You are very strong to 'ave caught the both of us!" her friend said in a breathy voice.

Charlie looked at them sheepishly. "It's nothing. I have to keep up my strength . . . for the _dragon _reserve and all."

"Oooh!" came the awed chorus from the Veela girls.

"You work wiz dragons?" the Veela on Charlie's left asked him. "They are such dangerous creatures!"

"Yes, they are." Charlie spoke in an effortlessly humble tone, "Strength and quick reflexes are absolute necessities when you're dealing with them. Or else, you'd risk a most certain death." He looked at both girls with such a serious expression, that even Daphne almost fell for the act.

"C'mon," Charlie said with a gentle smile for his new companions, tweaking both of their cheeks with his finger. "Let's get you two outside for a breath of fresh air." And as he ushered the girls outside of the tent, he turned back to look at Fred and George, who were still stewing in the putrid-smelling Bubble.

With a smile to his brothers, and a wink and wave to Daphne, he and the girls disappeared.

The Bubble around Fred and George finally evaporated, and the twins gasped for fresh, non-fart-smelling air.

Daphne gasped for air as well; she couldn't catch her breath, as hard as she was laughing.

"OH! O – oh – oh – ho – ho – ho – _HAH_!" Daphne couldn't stop her hysterics, and looking at both Fred and George's furious expressions.

"Ya – _hah_ – _ah_!! Ya should've s-seen . . . _oh my Godric_! Charlie's the master, that's all I'm saying!" Daphne sniffed and wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes. She breathed out twice and regained her composure.

"_You_!" Fred pointed at her. "That wasn't . . . wasn't—"

"What?" Daphne tried to rearrange her face to the picture of innocence.

"_Nice!_"

"Yeah," George piped up. "We _are _your bosses, after all, Greengrass. Those are grounds for sacking you!"

Daphne cocked her eyebrow and grinned at the pair. "So me helping your brother thwart your shagging plans for the evening can get me tossed from your shop?" She crossed her arms and shook her head, continuing to smile at the oafs. "Oh, I clearly need to take lessons from Charlie on how to get you two all riled up!"

"Wha's goin' on here?"

The thundering footsteps behind the twins signaled the presence of Rubeus Hagrid. Daphne gulped. She had never been in the presence of this massive bulk of a half-breed, and despite Harry, Ron and Hermione vehemently defending the oaf, she couldn't help but be scared that he might trample her accidentally.

"_Hagrid_!" The twins greeted their friend roundly, forgetting their annoyance at their female situation — or _lack _thereof.

"Fred! George! You two stayin' outta trouble now, righ'?"

George scoffed. "Hagrid, really!"

"You'd think you'd know us better by now." Fred shook his head.

"Everyone _always _suspects the twins. The world could end, and all wands would be pointed right at us, George."

"Fred, it just goes to show how genius is either unappreciated or misjudged in its time."

"Oh, quit yer bellyachin'!" Hagrid said, and his beard twitched. "The both of yer's so melo-dramatic!"

"How are you doing, big guy?"

"Oh, well . . . I can' complain. Things 're getting' bad ou' there, though. I'm jus' tryin' to carry on, doin' wha' Dumbledore asked me ter do . . . an' take care of personal matters." The half-giant patted his heart, and Daphne felt an odd twinge in hers. She, however, remained quiet. Daphne didn't know Hagrid as well as the others did, and she really was quite unsure if she could just talk normally to him, or if she would need to speak slowly to him so he could keep up.

He _was _half-giant, after all.

"So, can you believe Skeeter, eh?" George nudged Hagrid with his elbow.

The gentle half-giant made a noise between a snort and a growl. "I mean no disrespect ter women anywhere, but tha' Skeeter's a righ' piece o' work. That unauthorized 'biography' of Dumbledore's a total crock! She's go' no _right_ intrudin' inter matters she don't know nothin' about." Hagrid gave a great, indignant grunt. "Jus' a money-grubbin', dirty lyin' snake, that one — _oh_! Daphne Greengrass! Pardon the whole 'snake' thing . . . don' take it personally."

Daphne was a bit shocked at hearing the groundkeeper use so many multi-syllabic words, that she completely missed the supposed insult; also, she was rather surprised he was speaking to her. "Er, uh . . . that's all right," she mumbled.

Hagrid smiled at her. "I'm glad tha' Molly an' Arthur 'ave taken to care for yeh. Ter tell yeh the truth," Hagrid leaned toward her, "I'd though' ter myself that yeh were gonna be trouble fer Harry and Ron and Hermione." Hagrid patted her shoulder with his huge paw and Daphne felt her knees buckle. She tried to smile, but the acute pain was making her wince. "Yer a good girl, Daphne. I think yer tryin' here, an' tha's all they want from yeh." Hagrid gave her a big smile and Daphne returned it — despite the fact that now her shoulder was terribly sore.

"Umm- . . . th-thanks."

Hagrid gave her a nod and turned to talk to the twins.

Daphne pondered for a few moments what had just happened. This had been the first official conversation that she had had with Rubeus Hagrid, and she had to admit that holding a conversation with him had been far different from what she thought it would be. Hagrid actually _sounded _rather intelligent . . . well, more intelligent than she had thought. Daphne simply hadn't realized that Hagrid was capable of real human emotion or thought; he had misjudged her as she had misjudged him, but his heart seemed to be all right—

"Knut for your thoughts?"

Daphne spun around and saw Ron smiling at her, and Hermione flushed with exertion from dancing.

"Daphne! Having a good time?" Hermione asked her.

"Yeah. This whole wedding stuff's wicked. I think I was wrong about your 'biggest' friend too."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Who? You mean Hagrid?"

Daphne nodded. "He seems, I dunno . . . pretty nice."

"Hagrid's the best!" Hermione exclaimed after she had just swallowed a big gulp of butterbeer. She let out a refreshed sigh. "Hagrid's heart is as big as he is."

Ron nodded. "You won't find a bigger — or better — bloke!"

Daphne's lip twitched.

"Hey. Have you seen Charlie?"

Daphne eyes narrowed and she gave Ron a mischievous smile. "You never told me about how utterly _brilliant_ he is! Showed the twins something, that's for sure."

Ron turned to Hermione. "Uh-oh."

"What do you mean 'uh-oh'?"

"When Charlie comes back home for any period of time," Ron said to both Hermione and Daphne, "a war of sorts erupts between him and the twins. Mostly it involves pranks and the usual fighting and goofing off. Drives Mum bonkers." Ron snorted. "Also involves a surprising — not to mention _disgusting _— amount of bodily fluids and functions—"

Hermione and Daphne raised their hands simultaneously. "We don't want to know," Hermione said.

"So, what happened with them?" Ron asked Daphne. She recounted the story from just a few minutes ago, complete with hand gestures and intriguing sound effects. Ron and Hermione collapsed on top of each other in a fit of hysterics.

"Oh, yeah," Fred said as he and George turned toward them. "Laugh it up, you three. We know where you sleep and where you live—"

Ron patted Fred on the shoulder. "Mate, you have to admit that Charlie's got some _style_ when it comes to birds. Just admit . . . compared to him, both of you _together_ are out of your league."

Fred and George narrowed their eyes at their little brother; their expressions caused Ron to lean back a bit away from the oncoming reaction. "Oh, we're thinking up a nifty little Whiz-Bang extravaganza, telling the whole world that Charlie Weasley's got a pinky-sized plonker and sucked his thumb until he was twelve. All in fireworks!"

"We could also say he wore nappies until he was ten and he still cries every time Celestina Warbeck comes over the WWN," George offered.

"Perhaps that he has some mysterious green blotches all over his—"

Ron halted them with his hand. "I don't need details." He shook his head at Hermione and Daphne. "This is about as bad as it gets."

Fred shrugged. "It's all out of love for our older brother."

"Not to mention a deep-seated need for revenge and blood!" George added.

"Well, that goes without saying."

The music continued on throughout the night. Ron and Hermione danced off and on and came over to talk to Daphne. At one point, Ginny Weasley decided she needed a dance partner during one of the faster songs and she dragged Daphne onto the floor.

"Blimey! You were right . . . you've got absolutely no rhythm!" Ginny yelled. "And I thought you loved music!" Daphne glared at the younger girl.

Bill and Fleur waltzed over, with Bill gracelessly tripping on Fleur's dress. As dashing as he looked in his dress robes, Bill's face shocked Daphne. She hadn't noticed that the scars really had healed up nicely, and they gave Bill a certain heft and gravitas to his appearance. She wasn't sure if it was possible, but Bill looked even manlier than ever before. And Fleur was positively glowing.

"Oh, Daphne!" Fleur kissed both of her cheeks. "I am so 'appy zat you are 'ere and celebrating wiz us!"

"Cheers, Fleur. Dunno if I told ya yet, but you look beautiful."

"_Merci_. I 'ope everyone is 'aving fun."

Daphne looked around. Seeing the clusters of people dancing and hanging on and hugging each other, and chatting and eating around the tables, it was clear that everyone was indeed having a grand time.

Daphne leaned in to Fleur. "Also, you should tell Bill that he looks quite dishy in his wedding garb."

Fleur giggled. "I 'ave told 'im over and over." She leaned in and cupped Daphne's ear. "I can 'ardly stop looking at 'im!"

Daphne giggled.

And suddenly, everything stopped.

Bill, Fleur, Daphne and Ginny's eyes followed everyone else's to the middle of the room. Daphne recognized after a few moments that they were staring at a Patronus – a large, silver lynx.

The voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt rang out over the marquee—

"_The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming._"

* * *

**A/N: **I couldn't find a better ending for this chapter than Rowling's own words. Shacklebolt's line is from the U.S. version of _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_, page. 159.

According to a Google search, "futu-i" is Romanian for "fuck". I do hope that's accurate. If anybody knows otherwise, please let me know. Thanks.


	12. Chapter 11: Separate Ways

**A/N: **A huge thank you to quick translations by Gaby Black for the dialogue spoken by Fleur' mother to Gabrielle. And thank you to stella8h8chang for the beta-read.

* * *

**Chapter 11: Separate Ways**

She never had a chance to say goodbye.

She never got a chance to tell her brother that she loved him.

Never got a chance to hug Hermione.

Never gave Harry a kiss farewell.

Ginny sat on the couch, her gold bridesmaid dress wrinkled and torn in places due to the sudden evacuation of the marquee. She sat next to Daphne in the Burrow's living room.

Waiting.

She could hear the pops of witches and wizards Apparating, but Ginny couldn't tell if any of them were of people leaving . . . _or_ arriving.

She hoped to _Merlin _that they were of people leaving.

Fleur's family stood on the opposite end of the living room. Fleur's sister, Gabrielle, had her eyes closed, and she was humming something that Ginny did not recognize. Madame Delacour dropped to her knees, and took her youngest daughter's face into her hands. She kissed Gabrielle's forehead and cheeks as the girl continued to hum. After a few moments, Gabrielle began to sing words in French, softly and under her breath.

Ginny could hear Madame Delacour, whispering in her native tongue—

"Continue à chanter pour moi, s'il te plait, ma petite colombe. . . . Ta voix est jolie . . . _tellement_ jolie!" She cooed to her youngest daughter and kissed the top of her head.

Ginny found herself utterly drawn to the soothing cadence of the language; it sounded as graceful as the song of a phoenix.

It simply took her breath away.

"Tu chantes si _bien_!"

Even if she did not know what she was saying, Madame Delacour's voice calmed her. It steadied her shaking nerves and her quaking breath. And it tempered her increasing desire to cry and yell and scream—

"Je t'aime, ma chérie. . . . Maman _t'aime_."

Hearing her mother's voice had had the same effect on Gabrielle. The ten-year-old opened her eyes and smiled serenely. Ginny saw Fleur and Gabrielle's father, standing behind the young girl, his hands firmly on her shoulders, occasionally patting them.

Fleur emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. She smiled at her family and at both girls sitting on the couch. Ginny marveled at how her sister-in-law seemed to be so composed even though what was meant to be the happiest day of her life had fallen apart so terrifyingly.

Molly came down the stairs, and handed Daphne her school robes.

"What's this?" Daphne asked.

"You need to start wearing your House's colors from now on, Daphne." Molly's voice was deceptively smooth. "From now on, you're _not_ leaving this house without wearing a Slytherin badge, or your school robes — _any_ article of clothing with the Slytherin symbol on it. Anyone stops to ask you who you are, that's the first thing you show them."

Daphne paled. "M-Molly . . . I—"

"Put on your robes." Molly's voice never wavered. "Before they get here." She turned away and headed to the Burrow's front door, looking for her husband and her sons. They were positioned outside the Burrow's ward's parameters, waiting for the arrival of supposed Ministry officials.

Ginny watched as Daphne put on her robes. She noticed that there was water in Daphne's eyes and the girl was shaking.

"Need help?" Ginny didn't wait for an answer, but she held the back of the robes, allowing Daphne to stretch her arms out and push them through the sleeves. Adjusting each side and straightening out the garment, Ginny watched as Daphne touched the green and silver shield with a serpent coiled into a large 'S' on it.

"It may be the only thing that'll stop people from asking you a lot of questions, Daphne."

Daphne looked up at her. "It feels wrong to use this."

Ginny was just about to open her mouth, when the Burrow's door burst open.

Molly walked quickly inside, followed immediately by Arthur and Bill. Behind them were five men who strode into the Burrow as if they owned the place. Ginny felt the bile rise up into her throat.

She wanted to ram her knee into their crotches.

Instead, she sat on her hands, balling them up into fists and clinging to the skirt of her dress. She looked over; Daphne appeared to have tucked her wand under her lap and had smoothed the front of her robes so her badge was as visible as it could be. Looking back up at the men, Ginny couldn't shake the feeling that one of them looked familiar, as if she had seen him somewhere very recently—

Charlie and Fred and George entered the Burrow last; Ginny could see that their eyes furious and livid. Arthur gave them a look that told them to back down.

The five men were dressed all in black, from their capes and robes to their boots and gloves. The first man — a tall, burly, dark-haired fellow—pointed to the two men directly behind him. Ginny couldn't stop thinking that she had seen him somewhere before.

"Boller. Malvole. Check out the upstairs area. Attic. All bedrooms." The man sneered at Arthur. "This family is _known_ for their close ties to Potter." Ginny watched as both men bolted up the Burrow's staircase, and Fred and George followed, holding back a bit, trying to look like they were letting the bastards do their jobs.

Ginny couldn't help but feel violated, having these strangers tear into her childhood home, sullying it with their dirty, rotten hands.

For a brief moment, she flashed back to her first year . . . and her breath quickened as the memory of the cursed diary took a hold of her brain—

"Arthur, what about Percy?" Molly's shaking voice caused Ginny to snap back into the present.

Arthur shook his head. "Charlie'll go once they're done here." Molly nodded, but the tense expression never left her face. "Oh!" Arthur whispered in a volume just a little louder than a whisper. "Did you remember? The _clock_?" he mouthed to his wife.

She nodded. "_Safe_."

Ginny bit her lip as she watched her dad kiss her mum on the top of her head.

"_Voxney_!" the burly fellow bellowed again, "Check the grounds outside." Voxney nodded at the command. Charlie and Bill followed closely on his heels.

"_Do not_," the commander shouted threateningly at Bill and Charlie, "try anything with my men! Remember — your family is in here. You hurt them, and everyone in this room—" he waved his wand, pointing Fleur and family, Arthur, Molly, Ginny and Daphne, "_everyone –_ _dies_!" The man's wand sparked as he moved it among the two families.

Ginny watched as a violent, consuming fury flashed upon both her brothers' faces. Setting their jaws and stuffing back the impulse to hex the bastard right on the spot, Bill and Charlie turned around and walked outside as quickly as they could. Ginny heard Fleur let out a small sob, and reign it in, desperate to not give these men the satisfaction.

The man giving the orders strode towards Arthur and Molly, who were holding each other's hands tightly.

"_You_," the commander said with a curled lip, "can call me Yaxley. This is Runcorn. We will be conducting interviews with your family members about any and all information concerning one," Yaxley sauntered up to Arthur and stood perilously close to him, "Harry James _Potter_!"

It was the first time Ginny saw her father look directly at a man with a sneer of disgust on his face.

"How _dare_ you interrupt my eldest son's wedding day for this!" Arthur asked him, his contempt darkening his expression and clouding his voice.

Molly put a calming hand on his chest. "Arthur, _please_." She turned to Yaxley. "You will ask your questions, and you will leave. Understand?"

Yaxley gave an amused, mirthless smirk. "Well, I see who it is that runs this little show around here."

Ginny missed the rest of whatever this Yaxley said to her mum and dad — because she suddenly remembered where she had seen the bastard!

(_He fought with them!_)

(_Oh Godric_! _He was there at Hogwarts! He was there the night Dumbledore—_)

The other large, dark-haired man — the one Yaxley called Runcorn — peered at her in a way that sent cold chills down Ginny's spine.

"So, _little_ girl," Runcorn drawled. Ginny watched her mum swiftly leave her dad's side and move towards her. "Tell me what you know about _Mister Potter_."

Ginny felt her face and body tighten. Her tongue felt like lead; it just wouldn't work — and that was when she felt her mum's hands on her shoulders.

"I haven't seen him for some time." Ginny jutted her chin out defiantly; she could feel her mum's touch strengthening her, giving her the ability to lie to these fools.

"There're rumors that Potter has _very_ strong feelings for the youngest Weasley girl." The words rolled off of Runcorn's tongue and Ginny wanted to retch hearing the suggestiveness of his tone; this prick managed to tarnish the feelings for Harry that she carried deep down in her heart—

"Well, _that idiot _broke it off with her. So she knows nothing about that speccy little coward's whereabouts!"

Runcorn's neck snapped to his left, as did Ginny's; Daphne stared at the man with a frightening expression. Part defiant, part aggressive . . . as well as part—

(_Hungry? Bloodthirsty?_)

(_She's ready to tear this piece of shit apart!_)

Runcorn moved away from Ginny, intrigued by this little upstart of a girl.

He looked her up and down, and let his hand move to her chest, touching the Slytherin blazon on her robes. Daphne recoiled from his contact, and Ginny felt her mum try to lunge forward to help her.

The Death Eater's wand flashed in front of Ginny's face; the tip just centimeters from her.

"You move, old woman," Runcorn said, never taking his eyes off of Daphne, "your daughter gets a curse right between her eyes."

A revolting leer spread across his face. He addressed Daphne. "A _Slytherin, _eh?" A mirthless chuckle escaped from his lips as he rubbed the Slytherin blazon attached to her garments. "What are _you_ doing here? Associating with the _worst_ _kind_ of blood traitors?"

Ginny saw Daphne swallow. "I-I work at their sons' joke shop."

Runcorn raised his eyebrow. "Oh?"

Daphne nodded, and shrugged. "They just invited me to the wedding. Didn't really have much else to do." Daphne stared straight at Runcorn. "There's not many businesses that're run by _pure-bloods _still around. I've been hanging around with these people since the summer holiday started." Daphne's nostrils flared. "I haven't seen Potter. _At. All._"

Runcorn squatted directly in front of Daphne. "You know," he began, "I was in Slytherin. Many, many years ago."

He extended his finger and swirled it over Daphne's Slytherin shield. He continued to speak in a slow, drawling tone, his words thick and heavy, like molasses rolling out of a jar.

"In Slytherin, we learned that _Mudbloods_ were the worst kind of wizards and witches." Runcorn's head fell to his left, but he kept his eyes trained on Daphne. Ginny saw Fleur sit up in her chair, and her mum shook her head very quickly, indicating she shouldn't get involved and risk curses being thrown at random by the intruders.

"What's your name, girl?" Runcorn's finger lingered on Daphne's chin.

Molly gasped in disgust. "This is e-_nough_!" she interjected. She made a move toward Daphne, but Runcorn held up his wand again, aiming it right at Ginny.

"Speak, girl." he said to Daphne in that disgusting voice. "It's not _hard_."

Ginny could see her gulp. "D-Daphne. Daphne Greengrass."

"Tell me, _Miss _Daphne," Runcorn's face was now almost touching hers, "what do you think is the _second _worst kind of witch and wizard?"

"Bl-blood traitors."

"Gold star for you." Runcorn sneered at her. "I want to hear you say it."

Daphne furrowed her brow. "Say what?"

"What do _we _call 'the _worst_ kind of wizards and witches'?" Runcorn touched the tip of Daphne's nose and Ginny saw the girl flinch.

"We c-call them . . ." Daphne was breathing very rapidly now. She shut her eyes briefly; they flew open and looked directly at Runcorn. "We call them _Mudbloods_."

Ginny saw Daphne's lips curl in disgust and her eyes harden.

Runcorn stood up. "Excellent! Weasley, I never realized that your family actually had decent _taste_ in their associates." He looked back at Daphne. "Excellent, indeed."

Runcorn and Yaxley looked up as they heard the thundering steps of Boller and Malvole coming down the staircase, followed by Fred and George, looking a bit smug. "The upstairs is clear. No sign of Potter or that Mudblood girl that's a known associate and accomplice of his."

Yaxley stepped forward. "What about their youngest son?" he asked with an aggressive voice; he jerked his head toward Arthur.

Boller shook his head. "It — I-I'm . . . not _sure._"

Yaxley stormed toward Boller. "What – do – you – _mean_, '_not sure_'?"

Malvole looked a bit bewildered, but tried to talk with an intimidating voice. "There's definitely _someone _up there. These two," Malvole gestured to Fred and George,  
"indicated that their youngest brother Ronald, is upstairs suffering from spattergroit." Malvole shuddered. "It was like he's one gigantic sore! And he smells horrible . . ."

Yaxley and Runcorn looked at each other. Yaxley nodded and Runcorn raised one eyebrow. "_Fine_! The youngest Weasley son has spattergroit. What – _ever_!" Runcorn stomped over to the door of the backyard. "_Voxney_!"

The man who had been sent out to the Weasley's backyard area ran up to his commanders. "All clear. No sign of Potter or his Mudblood girlfriend.

Yaxley turned slowly back toward Arthur and Molly. "Well, _Weasley_, we've no further business with your family. _To_-night." The metal in his boots clicked and clanked on the wood floor of the Burrow as Yaxley made his way to the front door.

Stopping, he turned back around, slowly.

"We will," a leering grin, full of arrogance and smug superiority, filled Yaxley's face, "be – in – _touch_. And watching. Always," he winked and sneered, "watching."

The five men left.

And no one exhaled until they heard the pops of Apparition in the distance.

Fred and George beckoned to Arthur, and the three of them went up the stairs.

"They didn't suspect the ghoul?" Arthur said over the stomping.

"Refused to get close enough to see," came Fred's voice. "They made a mess of things upstairs, though."

"Daphne, are you going to be all right?" Ginny watched as her mum walked towards Daphne, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder.

Daphne flinched. "Y-yeah, Molly. I'll be f-fine."

"I'll start some hot chocolate. I want you to have a cup, okay. The chocolate will help calm you down."

Daphne nodded absent-mindedly, but Ginny saw her pull away a bit from her mum's hand.

Directly in front of the girls, Fleur embraced Bill, who had just come in from the backyard. Charlie went to his mum.

"Oh, Charlie!" Molly held Charlie's face in her hands. "He didn't try anything—"

Charlie shook his head. "No, but I've gotta try to find Percy—" Ginny could hear her mum telling him things to say to his brother if he was able to talk to him.

"Beel, you are all right . . . 'e did not 'arm you—"

"Nothing happened, Love." Bill stroked Fleur's silvery hair, and gave Fleur's father a sad, apologetic smile.

"Sir. Monsieur Delacour." Bill broke away from Fleur and went up to her father. "I am so sorry about all of this." Fleur finally let out a small sob and embraced her parents.

"_Guillaume_," the eldest Delacour said gently while he patted his daughter on her back, "None of zis you need to apologize for. None of zis iz your fault."

"Please, call me Bill. I insist."

Gabrielle was quietly crying, and Fleur took her over to the tray of tea and biscuits. Madame Delacour came forward to Bill. "We shall call you our _beau-fils_! Beel, you are a part of ziz family now. You _and_ your family. And we could not 'ave asked for a bettair addition." She turned towards Molly. "Molly, please allow me to 'elp wiz any necessary cleaning—"

Molly waved her back down. "You are our guests, I cannot allow that—"

Madame Delacour placed a hand on her shoulder. "You _can_ allow eet, and you _weel_ allow eet!" And the two women walked up the stairs to assess the damage.

Ginny realized that her breath had finally slowed down and her body was starting to unclench everywhere. She looked over at her companion on the couch, about to say some words of reassurance and humor.

Daphne was staring off into space, her eyes vacant. She looked pale and drawn, but the longer Ginny observed her, she thought her skin was developing an odd green tinge—

"Excuse . . ." and Daphne jumped off of the couch and headed to the bathroom, cupping her hand over her mouth. Fleur made to get up to help her, but Ginny waved her down.

"Stay with your sister. I'll help."

Fleur nodded.

The door was shut when Ginny approached the bathroom. But it didn't block out the sounds of retching and heaving from inside.

Ginny winced as she heard a great heave. Knocking on the door, she said gently, "Daphne? It's Ginny. Do you need help?"

She heard heavy breathing, and silence for a couple of seconds. "C-come . . . i-in."

Ginny opened the door. Daphne's hand was flopped on the toilet seat and Ginny could smell the pungent odor of bile in the bathroom. She tried not to let it affect her; instead, she adopted a similar expression as she had seen on her mother whenever one of the kids got really sick.

Ginny crossed her legs and sat on the floor in front of Daphne. "Do you need anything? Water? Wet towel?"

Daphne humorlessly chuckled and rolled her head back onto the wall. Ginny waited for her to speak.

"I haven't said _that_ word in a long time." Daphne shut her eyes tight, and tears were coming down. "I haven't said that word with any meaning behind it for even _longer_—"

"He _made_ you," Ginny tried gently reminding her. "That bastard made you say it, and I thought you were trying to deflect him away from me." Ginny took her hand and Daphne opened her eyes. "You did a really good job."

A big sob came out of Daphne's mouth. "Please don't ever tell Hermione I said that in there." She shook her head. "I'm sure she thinks I've said it before . . . hell, I might've said it in front of her. But I don't think like that anymore." Daphne looked at Ginny directly in the eyes. "I don't."

Ginny nodded and gave her a smile. "I believe you, Daphne."

Daphne's lip continued to tremble; she bit her lip. Ginny noticed that she had bit down so hard, she was drawing a little blood.

Just as she was about to stop Daphne from cutting herself further, the Slytherin girl spoke. "I can still smell his breath on my face."

Ginny shook her head. "He was absolutely disgusting!" She rubbed Daphne's hand. "Do you need to talk about it?"

Daphne only shook her head. "I just need to get my pajamas. Take a shower." She shivered again. She rubbed at her clammy forehead with one hand, and touched her chest with her other. "Get his hands off of me."

Daphne swallowed and she made to get up, but stumbled. Ginny moved to provide support for her.

"S-sorry Ginny," she mumbled. "Feel a bit dizzy."

Ginny shook her head. "Just walk. I'll help you."

* * *

Ginny couldn't sleep. Instead, she lay in bed, struggling to write in her Muggle diary, despite the waves of tears and sobs that seemed to pour from her eyes and throat.

All she could think about was _them_ . . . the three of them. Out there, being hunted and chased down.

They were vulnerable now. You-Know-Who could find them, and then—

Ginny fell backwards onto her pillow, allowing her quill to slip from her fingers and the page of shaky, incoherent writing flip over to a blank sheet. The tears simply kept coming and she made no attempt to stop them.

Why would she? She was in her bedroom.

Alone.

Only a couple of things of Hermione's had been left behind: some clothes, a few parchments — nothing that said anything about their mission.

(_Fuck their mission!_)

(_Don't think like that._)

"Ginny, dammit!" She swatted at her face and cursed her selfishness. All she wanted was for them to be back, for You-Know-Who to be gone, to have never existed, for Harry's parents to be alive, and for Ron and Hermione to be together and happy.

Ginny had wondered whether it'd been obvious to her dad and mum just how shaken she was now that Harry, Ron and Hermione were gone. Her dad had sent a Patronus to tell them that everyone was all right. But not to return to the Burrow, for it was being watched.

Her dad had assured her that they were safe at Grimmauld Place, and that when a couple of days had passed, someone from the Order would check up on them.

She had given him a reassuring smile, and closed her eyes as she hugged him. She had thanked her dad for his promises.

But as she lay in her bed, Ginny realized that it wasn't enough.

She needed more, she needed to be absolutely certain.

She needed—

_**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**_

Ginny sniffed and rubbed at her face vigorously. She hoped that there wasn't any evidence of her moment of weakness.

"Come in."

The door opened. Daphne Greengrass stood in the doorway. She was dressed in her pajamas and had a black-and-green robe draped over her.

Ginny thought she still looked a bit peaky.

"I . . . er, were you sleeping?"

Ginny shook her head. "Honestly, I don't think I'll ever really sleep again after tonight."

Daphne nodded. She coughed and cleared her throat. "W-would you mind if I slept in here? Just for tonight?" she qualified under her breath. Daphne meekly gestured to the now-empty bed and Ginny found she couldn't say anything.

Because an almost irrational impulse to say "But that's _Hermione's _bed!" _almost_ escaped from her mouth.

"Sorry," Daphne muttered.

Ginny shook her head. "Daphne, wait!" Ginny almost jumped up out of her bed, catching her diary and shutting it before it dropped to the floor. She thrust her hand out right before the Slytherin girl shut the door. "Of course. Yeah, you can stay here." Ginny sat back on her haunches. "I . . . I think it would be nice to have someone in here." Ginny shrugged. "We can talk and, I dunno," she sighed and looked at the other girl, "we can be here for each other."

Daphne gave a small nod. "Well . . . all right?"

Ginny grinned. "All right."

The Slytherin girl entered the room, and shut the door.

Settling herself on the extra bed, Daphne started speaking. "Do you have any idea where—"

"Not a clue! Believe me, I've been running through every single conversation, every moment that I can remember between Harry, Hermione and Ron." Ginny slouched against the wall; despite her best efforts, she could still hear the muffled thickness of tears that seemed to be stuck in her throat and in her head. "I've got nothing."

Daphne clicked her tongue on the top of her mouth and let out a trembling breath. "I don't want to think of them being out on their own."

"That's all I've been thinking about," Ginny said sadly.

Daphne chewed on her lip; her eyes found a spot on the wall just past Ginny's head. "What the hell kind of quest could Dumbledore have sent them on?! They're _our_ age, for Merlin's sake!" Daphne shook her head. "They're just our age. Doesn't matter that Harry's 'The Chosen One'," she curled her fingers next to her head, signifying quotation marks. "It matters that he's only seventeen."

Ginny snorted. "He's beaten You – Know – Who before. When he was a baby." She looked down at her fingernails, worrying them until they were smooth and shiny. "He can do it."

"He's got Ron and Hermione with him. Harry'll be able to do anything so long as he's got them. Hermione's brains will get him through anything."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "And Ron?"

Daphne remained silent for a couple of second, and, slowly, a smile grew on her face. "He's their spirit, isn't he?"

Ginny nodded and grinned. "He's their laughter."

"And he's oddly insightful."

"Capable of the wisest words—"

"But he'll deny it until he's blue in the face."

Ginny laughed. "That's our Ron, isn't it."

Daphne's grin faded. "I can't believe he and I are friends, y'know?"

Ginny looked at Daphne for a few moments. She thought that this was as good an opportunity to ask her what she had been dying to find out for ages. "How did that happen, by the way? How did you and Ron become friends?"

She shrugged. "I snuck into the Slytherin boys' dormitory to snoop around in Malfoy's things, and when I told Harry, Ron and Hermione about using other methods of getting information, Ron made a comment about me going all _Slytherin_ on them." Daphne rolled her eyes. "I got pissed, stormed off, and he brought me down to the kitchens a couple of days later and we talked it out." She grinned. "He said he was starting to think of me as a person, not as a Slytherin, during the middle of our fifth year, when we were learning Patronuses in the D.A. Remember?"

Ginny nodded.

Daphne looked down at her legs, stretched out in front of her, her socked feet wriggling on the edge of the bed. "He once told me that he started to see that good people can do bad things and bad people can do good things." She looked back up at Ginny, and to the Gryffindor's surprise, the girl's eyes were wet.

But she was smiling.

"And then he said I was a good person." Daphne breathed out. "I needed to hear that then. I didn't let it sink in before, but I've had some time to think about it."

"And?"

"Well, I guess it was how he was able to become my friend. He thought I was a good person, even if I do some really shitty things." She continued to look at Ginny with a watery smile; she could see, despite the teary expression, that Daphne's happiness was quite evident. "He saw past some of my crap. I saw past some of his. And we just came to this conclusion that both of us were human beings. Not just another Gryffindor or a Slytherin." Daphne wiped her eyes. "From then on, I felt like I was a part of something. And _now _look at me." She threw her arms out open. "I'm here with you! Part of the Weasley clan."

Ginny chuckled quietly. "It's been quite a year, hasn't it?"

Daphne sighed as a tear slipped down her cheek. "It has indeed."

* * *

**A/N: **English translation for the dialogue between Madame Delacour and Gabrielle are:

"Please keep singing for me, my little dove. Such a lovely, lovely voice!" "Sounds so pretty!" "Love you, my dear . . . mother loves you."


	13. Chapter 12: Power and Control

**A/N: **Thanks so much to stella8h8chang for the beta-read of this chapter -- the "non-magical persons illegally carrying wands" was her idea. There are huge portions of the first section that are not beta'd, however, due to some last minute changes that I made. I think I've picked through this portion myself enough times; if I've missed anything, please let me know. I'd also like to give a quick shout-out to Dr. Shanty--their last review inspired the ending of this chapter. Thanks!

* * *

**Chapter 12: Power and Control**

The harsh _plink_ of heavy rain hit the glass panels of the front of the shop. Long streams of water rolled down the clear surface.

Daphne kept her forehead pressed against the cool window of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but it did nothing to soothe or calm the rising waves of emotions that she had been feeling for a while. She held a book, _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_, closed shut, her finger marking the page where she had last left off.

She had Side-Along Apparated with Arthur Weasley into Diagon Alley four days following the coup. It had started raining as soon as they had arrived, the drops falling harder than normal, and only a few bodies roamed around the streets. Witches and wizards ran for cover, throwing Impervius Charms over them or simply seeking shelter. Walking close to Arthur under the large bubble of an Impervius Charm, she had noticed that several more stores had been boarded up or bore traces of Alarm Shields around their storefronts. Presently, it seemed to Daphne that the coup was doing nothing for the businesses in Diagon Alley.

She had also watched as witches and wizards walked with their wands at the ready, striding purposefully toward their destinations, avoiding any contact or conversation.

(_It _is_ raining, after all._)

(_But that's never stopped us before!_)

Daphne had noticed a larger-than-normal number of witches and wizards scurrying into the dank recess that was Knockturn Alley. She was reminded of large sewer rats, running along gutters filled with running water, seeking scraps of food and other sundry bits of refuse.

She had also noticed a sudden increase in black, green and silver clothing around her, even among the sparse crowd that barely filled the street. It was as if every person who had ever belonged in Slytherin House or had even the remotest relationship to Slytherin House had crawled out of the woodwork.

It appeared that Molly Weasley's instincts had been correct; Slytherin seemed to be king. Daphne gave a very silent _thank you_ and vowed to do something nice for Molly; the older woman had stayed up the better part of the night before, sewing the Slytherin shield onto a few black and green shirts and jumpers that she owned.

Arthur and Daphne had approached the shop after slogging through the street. He had to stay for a couple of minutes to discuss a few matters with the twins. But Daphne needed to ask him something first.

"Um, Arthur?" Daphne had started, a little awkwardly and timidly.

He gave her a worried look. "Daphne, what is it?"

"I- . . . I sort of, um. . . . Could you do me a favor? Please?"

"Certainly. Just ask me."

Daphne let out a small breath of air. "I wrote a-a letter to someone. And I . . . um, would you be able to send it from the Ministry?

"Why of course! Who is it for?"

"Michael Corner." She handed the parchment to him. "I didn't put anything that's, I don't know . . . _questionable_ or anything that would get anyone in trouble. You can read it if you need to." She shrugged. "I just need to know if he's okay."

Arthur smiled at Daphne, but it was with a hint of sadness. "Absolutely. That's perfectly understandable." He did a quick scan, simply to make sure everything was in order, and he looked back up, smiling and nodding. "It _is_ good, and I'll send it off straightaway." He rolled up the parchment and stuffed it in his robes, just as Fred and George came down from their flat above the shop to greet him.

That had been four . . . maybe five hours ago. Now, Daphne stood behind the window of the shop, her head leaning against the surface. She watched as the world seemed to drown under the grey skies and dark deluge. Her lip twitched upwards, but she wasn't smiling. Every so often, the only sound she could hear beyond the thunder and rain was her own shaking breath.

Until about fifteen minutes ago, when Fred started tinkering around with their wireless.

Inside the shop, she could hear the crackling of static as Fred twisted the dial, trying to get a clear signal. Suddenly, newly-empowered Minister of Magic Pius Thicknesse's deep and loud voice bellowed forth from the device—

"—_Let us all remember the bravery of Rufus Scrimgeour, who courageously faced down the Mudbloods that entered his office, that struck him down despite his final stand against them!_"

Daphne turned around slowly. "Really? They're going with _that_ story? _Scrimgeour_ was killed by _Muggle_-_borns_?"

Fred snorted. "Better than saying he was killed by the current Minister of Magic and his Death Eater cronies, isn't it?" His voice was filled with sarcasm.

"—_Mudbloods shall no longer take what is not rightfully theirs! I shall urge all my listeners to inform us if you have information about Mudbloods near you. Do not approach them. Do not touch them. They may try to take your wand! CALL THE AUTHORITIES IMMEDIATELY!_"

Daphne shivered. "Turn that crap off. It's disturbing and cruel."

"Won't get any arguments from me there, Greengrass." With a flick of his wand, Fred shut the wireless off.

The shop now silent, Daphne's ears picked up another sound; something was belching and gagging. Looking at Fred's black shirt, she saw a huge, wriggling "S" in green and silver and a banner with "I _'heart'_ Slytherin" just underneath it. All around the symbol, little snakes were burping up hearts and flowers.

She shook her head. "You wore that shirt yesterday."

Fred nodded. "Good memory on ya, Greengrass!"

"Isn't that pandering? The twins don't pander."

"Ah!" He wiggled his finger at Daphne. "It's not pandering if we wear our 'Slytherin Tribute' shirts all for the sweetest snake currently in our employ!" He clasped his hands together and batted his eyes.

Daphne gave Fred a flat look. "Thanks, I . . . _think._" She pointed at him as she started to walk back to the counter. "You know that shirt'll have to be washed at some point. Pretty soon, you're gonna start smelling like the arse crack of a mountain troll."

"Had some experience with a troll's backside, then?" George interrupted, grinning at her. He walked to the front of the shop wearing the exact same shirt as Fred.

Daphne threw her fiercest glare at them. "_You've_ . . ." she paused, figuring out a decent comeback, "got . . . the . . . _headofatrollsbackside_." It came out as an awkward mumble. Fred and George smirked at each other.

George turned back to look at Daphne and the book she was holding caught his attention. He pointed at it. "Is our favorite employee—"

"Your _only_ employee," she said, raising an eyebrow to George's smirking face.

"—Actually _reading _something?" He moseyed up to Daphne and tried to get a peek at the book.

"Er . . . I just picked up that wretched 'biography'," she bent her fingers like quotation marks next to her head, "that _that_ Skeeter bint wrote about Dumbledore."

George wrinkled his nose at her, clearly disgusted with the book himself. "Why the hell didja buy it?"

Daphne shrugged. "I was curious."

"You do realize that a portion of the Galleons you wasted on that piece of rubbish goes to her, right? So, basically, you're telling her that it's okay to make a profit on a pile of shit!"

Daphne looked at the tome sheepishly. "Er . . . I hadn't thought—"

George shook his head, his red hair grazing the hole on the side of his head where he had lost his ear. "Well, if we run out of toilet paper, at least we've got _something_ we can use."

He winked at Daphne as she threw a rag at him.

The sound of a belch and fart heralded that the shop's front door had opened. All three heads snapped towards the front . . . and all three let out a relieved breath when Arthur Weasley strode through the shop to meet them at the counter. The air around him shimmered with water drops as they touched the bubble of his Impervius Charm. He lifted the protective spell off of him.

"Dad," Fred said, with a reassured nod. Arthur shook both of his sons' hands.

"Have you three been holding up all right?" He made eye contact with Fred, George and Daphne, and she couldn't help but notice Arthur's slightly dazed appearance. He was also breathing a bit too quick to be normal. The three of them looked at each other with quizzical expressions.

George was the first to talk. "Nothing's happened so far today. You're the first person to walk in here. Is there something—"

"Good." Arthur spoke brusquely. "Daphne, I sent your letter off. And," Arthur pulled out a sealed parchment that had been rolled up, "this came for you today. Express owl."

Daphne's heart gave a leap upon seeing her name written out in that strong, slanted cursive that she knew so very well.

She knew _exactly_ who had written that letter.

"Michael." She smiled as she took it. However, there was far too much happening in front of Daphne for her to open it at that moment; she would save the letter for later when she could fully and completely enjoy it.

"Thanks so much, Arthur." She gave him a grateful bow.

"And I also brought these." Arthur reached into his robes, and pulled out a set of documents, as well as what looked like three cards.

Fred's brow furrowed as he picked up one of the cards, which had a picture of him grinning and winking. "What's this all about?"

Arthur quickly locked the door from the inside and cast a Privacy Charm around the interior of the shop. "These are identification cards, similar to ones we have as Ministry employees." Arthur shrugged off his robes. "The Ministry is about to implement a new decree, stating that all witches and wizards must register their blood status with the Ministry."

Fred, George and Daphne looked at Arthur with total disgust. "_Register_?" George hissed. "What the hell does 'register' mean?"

Arthur pulled up a chair to the counter. "The Ministry's going to start interrogating Muggle-borns. The decree was approved the night of the coup."

Daphne looked at Arthur with a troubled expression. "Why aren't they announcing it now?"

As if to answer her question, he pulled out the latest issue of the _Daily Prophet._

"Front page."

The twins surrounded Daphne on either side, and all three converged upon the article, hissing and swearing at its contents.

"They _can't_! Dad . . . I mean," Fred, for once, was at a loss for words, and no joke seemed to be able to come to his lips. "how? The Muggle-born population is small, but not insignificant."

Arthur's face grew even more serious. "They've already started conducting 'interviews' with Muggle-borns." He shook his head. "They're using the so-called 'element of surprise'." Arthur snorted in disgust. "They've already gotten to twelve families — they've interrogated and tortured them, and had their houses razed to the ground or burned down. Miraculously, I don't believe they've killed anyone. Yet."

Daphne and the twins looked at each other, the silence between them thick and heavy with meaning.

"This was the same night as Bill and Fleur's wedding?" George asked. "Did they do this _while _they burned down Dedaleus Diggle's home? Or while they were torturing Tonks' family?" There was a bitter, vicious tone to George's voice that Daphne had never heard before from the twin.

Arthur nodded.

"Were we even able to do anything? Help anyone?" Fred asked after a few moments.

"Kingsley and Tonks are working with other Order-affiliated Aurors and members to see if we can get them out of Azkaban—"

"Those bastards are holding Muggle-borns in _Azkaban_?! On what grounds?"

Arthur looked at Fred and spoke somberly. "On the grounds that they're Muggle-borns, son."

Fred gave an angry, guttural growl. "I don't believe it! How can they—"

"They're charging them as 'non-magical persons illegally carrying wands'." Arthur shook his head. "It's inhuman what they've been able to do over the last couple of days. The laws they've created and changed—"

"It's because they're the ones in power, right?' Daphne said quietly. "They can do whatever they want." She looked at Arthur, who nodded.

"You're right," he responded somberly. "The Order still exists, but the Death Eaters are now in control of our entire system. Legal. Political. Everything. That means they've got control of all of our spells and prophecies, and they can make the rules and laws. They're the ones who made You-Know-Who's name Taboo. They're the ones who've marked Harry Potter as 'Undesirable No. 1'. They're the ones that continue to push the idea that he's involved with Dumbledore's death. We can only do so much before we risk our own imprisonment." Arthur looked at his sons and Daphne with a serious demeanor. "I will do whatever it takes to protect all witches and wizards, and to watch out for our family, first and foremost. That means I'll continue to work at the Ministry, and act the part of an obedient employee, but I'll be helping out the Order with information gathering and rescue operations, so long as we," Arthur gestured among the four of them, "can remain off the radar."

"What do you need us to do?" George stepped next to Fred and both brothers stood with their hands on their hips, curled in defiant fists.

Arthur couldn't stop a smile from escaping onto his face. "Well, and mind you, your mother isn't going to like this," he said with a grimace, "but the Order will need you to help with relocation plans and organization." Arthur unfurled a map that had been rolled and folded in order to best be concealed in his robes. "We've secured a few scattered locations with Order-aligned safe-houses. These are old Auror safe-houses that even the Ministry knew nothing about, used by Aurors for various missions and assignments. Kingsley is the lead in this assignment. What we're going to do is route Muggle-borns, Muggles married to a witch or wizard, and Squibs who the Ministry will be targeting for registration, interrogation, or . . . _anything_ _else_," Arthur's jaw flexed, "to these safe-houses, where they'll wait for papers to be drawn up so they can be transported out of the country for the duration of the war. They can choose to stay as well, but," Arthur sucked in a breath, "it may be a tight fit."

"But they're just going after Muggle-borns right now," Daphne said. "Why would they go after Muggles _and_ Squibs?"

Arthur looked at her somberly. "Why not? Death Eaters and You-Know-Who's followers are trying to keep themselves working within the machine of our legal system and government, but they're also going to be operating outside that same system." Arthur shrugged. "They'll go after anything and anyone that upsets their idea of the 'natural order' of things, that doesn't fit in with their idea of the ideal society for witches and wizards. Muggles that are connected to our world might get caught in the middle of their violence."

Daphne turned her eyes downward.

(_Blaise Zabini._)

(_Would they do the same thing to a pure-blood wizard who's in love with another wizard?_)

Arthur regarded the twins with a grave expression. "We'll need you and your brothers to help with bringing everyone together."

Fred and George looked at each other, grinned with determination, and nodded. "Done and done."

Arthur had a grim smile on his own face. "I don't know how many we'll be able to save, but, hopefully, it'll be enough." Turning to Daphne, he addressed her. "We'll close down the shop for a few days to prepare and secure the safe-houses. You can help Fred and George with any orders that come through the mail."

Daphne was barely listening to him, or barely allowing what he was saying to register. Instead, she turned her card to face Arthur. "How did you get mine? I'm not a Weasley or—"

"Well, all I want to say about that for now is," Arthur winked and smiled at her, "Dumbledore's not the only one with connections."

Daphne looked at him, her brow furrowed and troubled.

"Daphne, your card, this pass, is legal. It's above board, and you shouldn't worry about it." Arthur leaned toward her and motioned with his finger for her. "Besides, consider this a thank you of sorts."

"Huh?" Daphne grunted, clearly confused. "Why would you need to thank me?"

Arthur grinned ruefully at her. "You've deflected a little heat off of the Burrow for the moment. Apparently, Runcorn and Yaxley informed, well, _whomever_ it is that they report to, that we've let you stay with us. And, with you being . . ." Arthur's voice drifted away, but he gestured at the robes she was wearing. Daphne looked down, and realized she had forgotten she had on her robes. Her Slytherin crest was displayed quite prominently on them.

"They're going easier on you because you've got a Slytherin in your house?" Daphne asked him, her voice filled with incredulity.

Arthur shrugged again. "They don't seem to be too concerned about what we're doing at the Burrow ever since it got around that you're staying with us." He looked at her very carefully. "Daphne, believe me, I didn't anticipate this reaction when I told Molly she needed to make sure you were wearing your school robes. My first thought was only that it would keep you safe and that it would stop any unsavory individuals from bothering you."

Daphne stared at Arthur for a few moments . . . and then started chuckling. "I'll be damned! Look, if me advertising my house affiliation makes things easier for you lot, I'll do it." She looked at all three Weasley men. "I'll be the biggest, best damn Slytherin girl you've ever met!"

Arthur laughed and the twins snorted. "Okay," Arthur began, still laughing lightly, "Fred. George. Can the two of you go on and close up the shop? We'll need to start preparing and coordinating the evacuation. We've got to move slowly, though, and not raise or alert anyone as to our activities. We're anticipating this mission could last into the winter, depending on various factors—"

"Sure!" George looked at his brother, "you're stuck with us."

Fred smacked his father on the back and smiled. "Through thick and thin."

Arthur smiled and nodded. "Well, the first thing we need to do is—"

Daphne turned her back on them as they started discussing plans about the safe-houses. She pulled out the letter, anxious to read it.

Handling it more carefully than anything she had ever held in her whole life, Daphne's eyes flew down the page. Her face fell as she read. The tone of the letter was oddly formal for Michael. His humor and penchant for making little sarcastic quips seemed to be non-existent; it felt like Michael hadn't even penned the note.

And then Daphne got to the bottom of the letter and she smiled. And she continued to smile, biting her lip and blushing furiously until she got to his name at the very bottom of the page.

So, she went back up to the top of the letter, taking notice of the date because Michael had sent this missive only yesterday, and that, as much as anything, accounted for the bizarre tone of his message to her.

(_He's trying to be careful with what he says._)

(_But the boy sure knows how to finish a letter! And how to make a girl feel warm inside!_)

She read it once more:

_August 4, 1997_

_Fair Miss Greengrass,_

_Hello! Well, it's been __far __too __long__ without any word from you. I wanted to keep the lines of communication open between you and I. I know that I'm an __awful__ letter writer, and you've complained thoroughly about various aspects of my writing. But, I did have someone __look __over __this message to make sure I'm saying everything right and that everything looks good — spelling and grammar and other things, you know! _

_So, we three are all doing very well. We've been at Tony's for a couple of days now. Terry sends his love. Although you may need to get that checked out by a Healer. I've got no idea where he's been! _

_And Tony's sitting in the corner glaring at us, well mostly at Terry. He keeps telling Tony that it's going to be his mission this year to make sure he gets some . . . um, a girl this year. That's all I can say about that._

_I really hope everything is well where you're at, and the __family__ is okay. We haven't received any news that anything is other than all right. Hopefully, I'll hear from you soon._

_Oh, I almost forgot. This note would not be complete without some words that I __know__ you're familiar with. Just so you know: I think these words mean a lot more than anything I could've written in this message. So . . . I leave you with these two passages from your favorite poets—_

_Hey Jude,_

_Don't make it bad._

_Take a sad song and make it better._

_Remember to let her into heart,_

_And then you can start to make it better._

--

_Hey Jude,_

_Don't let me down._

_You have found her, now go and get her._

_Remember, to let her into your heart,_

_Then you can start to make it better._

_Yours,_

_Michael_

She was biting her lip now, feeling her chin tremble.

(_He is something else, isn't he?_)

"Daphne," Arthur addressed the Slytherin girl. Daphne jumped up and turned to face the elder Weasley, making sure to wipe at her face and compose herself. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yeah," She nodded, smiled and held up the letter. "It's from Michael." She continued to smile as she looked back down at it. "He's all right. He wrote this yesterday. He's with some friends of his too." Daphne's voice drifted away as she rubbed the edge of the letter. "They're all safe. Nothing's happened to them."

When she looked back up at Arthur, she saw he was smiling warmly at her. "That is truly good news, Daphne. _Truly_!"

"It is." Her face fell, remembering why Michael and Terry went to stay with Anthony Goldstein in the first place. "Arthur, Michael and Terry's parents are Muggle-borns—"

"We'll look into it, Daphne. There are a couple of Order members at the Ministry that are smuggling out any and all information about known Muggle-borns currently living in the British Isles and Ireland." Arthur nodded. "We'll make every effort to help them." He smiled at her again, and Daphne felt herself growing a little bit warm with the comforting thought that Michael's parents would hopefully remain safe.

"We're done here." Arthur said after a moment. "Fred and George will close up the shop and I'll go ahead and take you home—"

Daphne suddenly remembered the thoughts she had had earlier, about another friend of hers, one that might actually be nearby. Her friend who was the very image of pure-blood superiority . . . and who was in a relationship with another bloke.

And, suddenly, the need to see him took precedence over anything else. Considering what Arthur had said earlier, about the Ministry going after any wizard that upsets their supposed "natural order", Daphne had to make sure that he was safe.

"Um, Arthur, would it be all right if . . . well, I've got a friend that's staying here in those flats next to Diagon Alley, and I haven't seen him, well, _them_, since school ended. Would it be possible to try to visit him? _Them_, I mean? Er . . . p-please?" Daphne asked nervously. She wrung the bottom part of her robes but kept her eyes trained on Arthur.

"We can, Daphne. But we should be quick about it."

Daphne nodded. Arthur cast another Impervius Charm around them and together, they left the shop and walked forth into the continuing deluge.

* * *

**A/N:** Lyrics are from "Hey Jude" by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, written in 1968.


	14. Chapter 13: A Brief Reunion

**A/N:** Story status -- The students will be getting to Hogwarts by chapter 17; I wanted to keep all of you up-to-date about that.

If you haven't yet checked it out, I've got a new story up, _**Her First and Her Last**_. It's a Lavender Brown-centric piece featuring Seamus Finnigan and Anthony Goldstein. The first part is up, and the second should be going up tomorrow.

I own nothing. A huge thanks to stella8h8chang for beta-reading this.

* * *

**Chapter 13: A Brief Reunion**

Although the rain continued to fall, Daphne felt a lightness in her step that she hadn't felt in days. She knew perfectly well why — she could feel Michael's letter in the pockets of her robes.

She smiled as she touched the wrinkled parchment; she had a feeling that she would keep the letter close to her at all times. However, her face fell as she approached the flat where she _hoped _Blaise was living, safe and sound. Daphne took a couple of deep breaths and knocked on the door.

(_It'll be all right . . . It'll be all right . . . It'll be all right . . ._)

(_He's not gonna just turn me away!_)

Daphne had no time to worry about Blaise Zabini's reaction to her . . . because she found herself staring at his face. And he was completely at a loss for words.

"Daphne?"

"Er, _ta-dah_!" Daphne splayed her hands out and smiled awkwardly.

Blaise stood in the doorway, dumbstruck and mute.

Daphne glared at him. "Happy to see you too, Zabini."

Blaise shook his head. "I just . . . well, we weren't expecting anyone tonight."

"Ah! Daphne. Is he home?"

Arthur Weasley walked towards the two Slytherins, his face signaling that he was hopeful for a friendly reception. Daphne finally noticed what Blaise was wearing. He had on black trousers that were nicely pressed and a dark green shirt with the Slytherin blazon prominently displayed on his chest.

Blaise looked quite striking in his garb; however his unmoving face ruined the effect.

"Arthur Weasley, Blaise. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

Daphne rolled her eyes as she watched Blaise stare at Arthur's outstretched hand; he was utterly at a loss to say or do anything.

"Blaise?' came a deep, masculine voice from inside the flat, "who's out—"

Blaise blushed, and Arthur gave a little start in surprise as Eddie Carmichael's head popped up over Blaise's shoulder. "Oh! Um, hello. Daphne? What are you doing here?"

Daphne breathed out, relieved. Eddie's voice at least sounded pleasant as he addressed her. "I wanted to stop by and see how you two were doing." Daphne held back an amused snort as Eddie raised his eyebrow at her tone. Blaise continued to gape at her dumbly. "Er, Eddie," she broke in, "let me introduce you to Arthur Weasley."

Arthur gave him a wide grin. "Pleased to meet you, Eddie!"

Eddie reached out his hand to Arthur and gave the older man a brilliant smile. "Mister Weasley. Wait! You work at the Ministry, right?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, I do. In the Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects Office."

Eddie smiled and wiggled a finger at Arthur. "But before that, you were in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, weren't you?"

"How did you know that, son? Wait a minute," Arthur looked like he had just made a realization. "Is your uncle Nigel Carmichael?"

"Yes he is."

"_Merlin's Beard_! He's one of the biggest Muggle artifact enthusiasts that I've ever met!" Arthur addressed Daphne. "I've owled Nigel a number of times with questions about eckeltricity and airplanes—" Daphne snickered into her hand, "and felly-visions and an assortment of other devices. Tell me, is he doing all right?"

Eddie chuckled. "Why don't we move this conversation indoors. Both of you, please come in!"

Arthur nodded and lifted the Impervius Charm covering both him and Daphne and he allowed her to pass through the threshold before him. Giving the older gentleman a politely exaggerated bow, she smirked at Blaise as she passed by him.

Eddie gestured towards the sofa in the middle of the living room. "Please make yourselves comfortable. It's not much, but it is home," Eddie said humbly, looking around the flat.

Daphne grinned. "It's great. How's training?"

Eddie grimaced. "Well, we're getting a lot of 'hands-on' experience. It seems like St. Mungo's been overrun with victims of curses and hexes gone awry." He shifted uncomfortably. "Many of them seem to be Muggle-borns too. And a couple of Squibs."

Arthur looked over at Daphne; all she could do was audibly exhale. "That's terrible Eddie—"

"Yeah, it is. But it's definitely helping me learn Healing magic far quicker than I thought possible." As he spoke, a tray of tea and biscuits Levitated into the living room.

Daphne took a biscuit and munched on it, throwing a couple of surreptitious looks over to Blaise. He was glaring at Eddie and Arthur Weasley. Daphne knew the look well; it was the same look she'd get when she wanted to say horrible things to someone, but kept silent.

"_Blaise_," Daphne said softly and she walked toward him. Eddie and Arthur were engrossed in a conversation about Eddie's Healer training, and she could barely make out Arthur asking something about Muggle stitches.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Blaise asked in a harsh whisper.

"Well, _lovely_ to see you too! You were the one who gave me the bloody address—"

"For you to use if necessary. Not to throw stupid little tea parties!" Blaise practically spat at her.

Daphne was taken aback. "I was worried about you and Eddie. I didn't know if anything had happened to either one of you. I wanted to make sure you were okay, 's all."

Blaise looked at her with a dubious smirk. "You were honestly worried about me? I feel so _warm_ . . . so _fuzzy_." He gave a little sarcastic shimmy and Daphne swatted him in the gut.

"You and Eddie doing all right? No attacks? No harm?"

Blaise shook his head. "All quiet. Actually," he said, with a triumphant grin, "the Ministry officials—"

"_Cack – _Death-Eaters – _ahem_!"

Blaise glared at her coughing interruption. "They've been acting like I shit Galleons." Blaise crossed his arms and smiled smugly at Daphne. "Apparently, I've," he flourished his finger and pointed at his chest, "got it."

"Not to mention Eddie and his _magic wand_—"

It was Blaise's turn to swat at Daphne. "Quiet!"

She snorted in amusement. "C'mon. I'm not gonna say a word."

"You haven't already told your precious Weasels?"

"Er, uh . . ." and Daphne trailed off awkwardly. "Well, er, actually—"

(_Oh crap!_)

Born out of a dangerous combination of desperation, imagination, and flexible morals, Daphne Greengrass had begun a small blackmail business while at Hogwarts. She had sought out prime marks who were not only wealthy, but possessed many "boggarts" in their closets.

With the help of her associate, Colin Creevey, Daphne had been able to amass many pictures of the wealthier Hogwarts students in a variety of compromising positions. And she and Colin had made a pretty Galleon or two — or a hundred — through this peculiar partnership.

Thus, last year, when things had started going south in Slytherin House, and Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were acting particularly evil towards Daphne in the wake of her participation with the DA and with the fight at the Ministry, she had turned to her only weapon.

She had blackmailed Blaise Zabini, the most powerful Slytherin in their sixth year, with the information that he was in a relationship with Eddie Carmichael.

However, Eddie had managed to turn the arrangement back around on her, asking her and offering her money to talk to Blaise and to try to get him to change his mind about pure-blood superiority.

To Daphne's surprise, her stubbornness and persistence had paid off; Blaise had started coming around toward the end of last year, even offering information that Malfoy did have a partial Dark Mark on his arm.

And from this sordid past, the blossoming of a new friendship had begun—

"_Daphne_?!"

"It must," Daphne said slowly, "have slipped my mind." She shrugged and tried to smile apologetically.

Blaise's mouth fell open. "_Who_? Who did you tell about Eddie and me?"

Daphne puffed out her mouth and cheeks. There was an awkward cough behind her, and when Blaise and Daphne looked back into the living room, they saw Eddie and Arthur Weasley staring at them with perplexed expressions.

"Ron. Only Ron knows."

Blaise smacked his head in frustration. "Dammit – dammit – _dammit_!"

"And I told him before I ever made our little 'arrangement'."

Blaise froze, his hand over his mouth. "He's known? For _that _long?"

She nodded, cringing.

"Great! So the bloody perfect Potter knows all about me—"

"No he doesn't Blaise," she squeaked at him. "Ron never breathed a word of it to anyone." She shook her head at Blaise's derisive snort. "I'm serious. I'd trust Ron — hell, I'd trust all of them — with _my life_." Daphne looked at the only Slytherin, the only one she could honestly call a friend. She focused her gravest expression onto him. "One thing I've learned since last year is that there is a reason why Harry and Ron are best friends. Harry trusts Ron with everything. Same goes for Hermione." Daphne set her mouth in a small, firm line. "I reckon people could learn a thing or two from them. About friendship."

Blaise continued to glare at Daphne; to her relief, she noticed his face softening the longer he stared at her. After a couple of moments, he let out a breath. "So only Ron knows then? Other than you and you 'business partner'?"

Daphne figured that now was _not_ a good time to bring up the fact that she had also told Hermione.

"Yup. Only Ron. Just Ron. Ron, Ron, Ron." Daphne managed to grin at Blaise; he raised an eyebrow at her.

Right at that moment, Daphne's eyes drifted toward a dining table, and a thick, worn, leather-bound book laying atop its surface—

Hey. That's . . . " Daphne picked up the tome and turned it this way and that. "This is _The Healer's Touch_! You still read this?"

Daphne grinned as she watched Blaise scratch his head and avert his eyes. She had given him this very book just a couple of months ago as part of Eddie Carmichael's deal to persuade Blaise to change his mind about pure-blood ideology. _The Healer's Touch_ was the biography of Healer Phillip Marcus Stallsworth, who was famous for his research on comparative magical qualities between pure-bloods, half-bloods and Muggle-borns.

Stallsworth was responsible for determining that a person's magical abilities was based solely on their genetics. Muggle-borns could not actually possess _any _magical abilities, since they would naturally be the product of two Muggle parents. Stallsworth had concluded that Muggle-borns could only logically have stolen their powers from other witches and wizards. His theories and conclusions were not only widely accepted in Slytherin House as the definitive proof of almost all anti-Muggle-born rhetoric, but it was widely accepted by wizarding society as a whole, laying dormant as the years progressed when there wasn't a war going on. However, one would not be hard-pressed to find a half-blood or pure-blood who might agree or accept the Healer's findings, even if they didn't agree with the extreme ends that the Healer's research seemed to go.

There were numerous, but lesser-known, articles by other wizarding researchers who had refuted the Healer's work; however, they had been unable to gain recognition in the magical community. Thus, Stallsworth's research continued to be quoted and used by those with anti-Muggle-born leanings.

"Er . . ." Blaise muttered, "I pick it up. Skim through it. Every now and then."

Daphne flipped through the book, and her eyes widened at the notes written in the margins and on slips of parchment marking various places in the text.

Looking closer at the notes, Daphne noticed that Blaise had cross-referenced portions of the biography with citations from the other documents that she had given him; these were documents from other magical researchers and healers directly contradicting Healer Stallsworth's specious data.

Daphne guffawed; the handwriting on the pages was both Blaise's and Eddie's.

Daphne held the book up, showing Blaise two pages that had been very thoroughly scribbled on. "Yeah. _Obviously_ you barely read this thing."

Blaise merely glared at her.

"Well, I for one am happy you've taken an active interest in discrediting stupid, prejudiced idiots like "_Shits_-worth" here."

Blaise, much to Daphne's surprise, looked a bit sheepish and contrite. "It makes Eddie happy." He looked back at her. "Can't be all that bad, can it?"

Daphne looked over to where Eddie and Arthur were still talking and laughing. She couldn't help but grin. "No, it can't. It would be great if more people would follow your lead." She shook her head and her grin became a bit more rueful. "Too many people are gullible enough to believe this, and too few know that 'The Healer's' research is bollocks."

Blaise shrugged. "He had the Galleons and the support of people in power. The researchers that disproved him didn't have the politics or money to get this research out to the masses."

"Well, someone should've tried."

"Why? What's the point, when it's just going to get shoved back into obscurity?"

Daphne shook her head. "I refuse to believe that! I mean," she swept her hand in front of her in a rhetorical flourish. "All this crap with the Ministry is creating one very pissed-off society. And they don't even know that the Death-Eaters are ruling with some rather arsed-up logic! They should know. Our whole society's been had and they don't even know it!"

Blaise ruefully chuckled. "If only you could educate all of them, Greengrass."

She snorted. "Yeah, if onl—"

She stopped and froze in mid-sentence. Blinking a couple of times, she turned slowly to look at her friend. He cocked his eyebrow at her.

"Daphne? Kneazle got your tongue?"

Daphne brought her finger up and rubbed her lips.

(_Of course!_)

(_But how? We'd need someone who had experience with distributing information to people._)

(_Like a—_)

(_By the mighty hammer of _THOR! _ Of course!_)

Daphne finally came to, shaking her head as she saw Blaise waving his hand in front of her face.

"Hello. Daphne. You home?"

Daphne nodded slowly and deliberately. "Right now, I could kiss you." She ignored the grimace of disgust on his face. "You've given me the best idea. I just need to figure out—"

"Daphne," Arthur walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we need to head back to the Burrow."

Daphne nodded, this time more quickly. She turned back towards Blaise and gave him a wink.

"Seriously, Zabini . . . you're such an inspiration." He could only stare at her.

Daphne turned to Eddie. "It was great seeing you again, Eddie. Please," Daphne said with all honesty and seriousness, "please, be careful."

Eddie was taken aback, but he grinned. "You too, Daphne."

With nods and several more handshakes, Daphne and Arthur departed to the Apparition point nearest to them.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Arthur asked after a couple of moments in silence.

"Sure. Yeah."

"Are Blaise and Eddie together?"

Daphne hoped that her little stumble in her gait didn't clue Arthur in that he had figured out the true nature of the two boys' relationship. But she knew one look at her face would answer Arthur's question without so many words.

Arthur held up his hand. "I think I know the answer to that. All I can say is so long as they are happy together, that's a good thing."

Daphne stifled a grin and a comment that threatened to come out.

"I only hope that they are very careful in how they proceed. Simply because there are people that will hurt them — possibly Eddie more so than Blaise — should their relationship become public." Arthur shook his head. "I'd hate for anything to happen to them, given the current Ministry administration."

Daphne face fell, and she nodded solemnly. "When you were talking to us back at the shop, about the Ministry going after Muggles and Squibs and any person that didn't fit the status quo," she gestured in the direction of Blaise and Eddie's flat with her head, "I thought about Blaise and Eddie. And I wanted to make sure nothing happened to him or Eddie. That they're safe for now."

"It's not going to be easy for them, Daphne. It's vital that they take precautions too. And they should probably look at getting some wards up around their flat."

She nodded.

"I could even volunteer to do it myself." Arthur thought for a moment. "Actually, Bill might help out with that too."

Daphne smiled. "Should I let Blaise know, or—"

Arthur shook his head. "No, no. I can get word to Eddie at St. Mungo's." He smiled at her. "You and Blaise looked as if you were having a very spirited discussion?"

She chuckled and sighed. "That's how we usually are. Blaise and I. Oh, actually . . . that reminds me. Um, do you think, Arthur, that it might be safe to wander around Ottery St. Catchpole a little?"

He looked at Daphne with a creased and confused brow. "It might be all right, Daphne. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I got this idea while I was talking to Blaise, but the person I need to talk to about it happens to live in the town too." She let out a loud breath and bit her lip, trying to look as sheepish and innocent as possible. "Can you tell me exactly how far the Lovegoods live from the Burrow?"

* * *

Ginny Weasley smirked at the grumpy Slytherin girl.

She had forgotten that Daphne hadn't really soaked in and internalized _exactly_ what the "Luna Lovegood Experience" entailed. Thus, when Daphne had explained to Ginny her idea and her need to talk to Luna Lovegood about how to get started on this new project, Ginny had drawn her lips together, stifled a chuckle (_or two!_), and set off with Daphne to Luna's house.

Of course, Molly Weasley had nearly popped a blood vessel upon seeing the two girls heading out of the Burrow. After much yelling and screaming to her mother that . . . "I'm _almost_ of age," Ginny had finally acquiesced to Molly's demand of escorting the two girls to the Lovegoods' home.

And so they sat in Luna's bedroom, their toes scrunching up in her odd, yet, comforting carpet that felt like grass.

Ginny chuckled as Daphne let out a huff.

(_She has absolutely no patience for her!_)

Luna, for her part, was gazing at the wall behind them, her feet dangling off the edge of her bed. Ginny smiled at her friend; to the most unobservant observer, Luna appeared the fool. Indeed, the things she said and believed in were odd and quirky,_ even_ by Muggle standards. However, to those who knew her, once a person finally understood how Luna Lovegood saw the world, they'd finally be able to see her brilliance.

At this moment, though, all understanding was lost on Daphne Greengrass, who was huffing ever so impatiently.

Luna hummed to herself, a small grin pasted on her face.

Daphne coughed loudly.

"I'm still thinking."

The Slytherin stared at the Ravenclaw. "Well, you could've fooled me—"

Ginny glared at Daphne and nudged her with her elbow.

"_Ow_!"

"Be nice. She's helping you out."

"Oh, right!" Daphne sneered. "She's just thinking about her Extract of Gurdy – Plimpy – Dingle – effin' – berry Roots or . . . _whatever_ the hell it is that she normally thinks about." She waved her hand dismissively. "Fat lot of help that—"

"To be honest . . ."

Both Ginny and Daphne snapped their heads towards Luna who finally started speaking to them. "I'm trying to think through some of my father's various Doubling Charms." The dreamy-eyed Ravenclaw looked at the two girls. "He uses several different variations of the Gemino Curse, but they're all designed to keep the contents of the parchment intact. If there are pictures that accompany a story, my father's spells will make sure that the picture or pictures continue to move."

Luna smiled. "He's found it's come in quite useful from time to time, when his printing press malfunctions or a pesky case of Nargles mistakes it for a mistletoe plant." She turned her protuberant eyes onto the other two girls. "That usually happens during their mating season."

Daphne simply looked at Luna with disbelief. "How in the world can someone — _something _— mistake a printing press for—"

Ginny swatted her across her chest to shut her up and turned to her friend. "Luna, do you think we can do this? While keeping it covert?"

Luna nodded, her eyes wide and bright. "Absolutely! It's common practice with our freelance writers to send Father memos and notes about their stories, and conceal the writing on them so they won't be scooped." Luna paused, and her eyes drifted to a corner of the room.

Daphne raised an eyebrow to Ginny, who could only shrug.

"What we need to do," Luna began in her dream-like way, "is simply cast the Doubling Charm on the entire document. The incantation is _Geminio Tabellae in Universus_. Then you can hand out the duplicated parchments to people. We'll give them directions on how to duplicate the parchments themselves, then they can hand them out to others. If they prefer, they can even simply talk about the contents of the parchments. They can talk to one person. Or five. Or ten. Or however many people they want to spread the information to!"

Daphne and Ginny grinned at each other. "It's doable then, you think?" Daphne said in a low, excited voice. "It wouldn't raise suspicion?"

"Oh, I'm sure it will at some point."

Daphne and Ginny's faces fell.

"But," Luna continued in her light, faraway voice, "as long as one other person reads it, they'll tell another person about it. That person will tell someone else, and it'll continue on and on, far after we've been caught." Luna leaned forward to them and smiled. "It's the same thing my father tells me about Snorkack Awareness. If you can just get one person to believe in it, then that's _one_ _more person_ than before."

"Wait," Daphne said, holding her hands up to stop Luna from going on. "You're not getting involved with the actual printing or distribution. I'll handle it. Don't want either of you getting mixed up in this."

Ginny huffed. "Daphne, don't being a thickhead! Of course we're helping you, right, Luna?"

The Ravenclaw nodded very enthusiastically.

Daphne slouched as she let out a heavy sigh. "You two'll get into trouble, though. At least with me, I'm Slytherin. I'll be off their radar."

"Right," Ginny said sarcastically. "So they _won't _suspect the Slytherin that's been living with the Weasleys _and _who's known to be friends with Harry Potter."

Daphne glared at Ginny's lopsided smirk.

"She is right, Daphne. You'll be suspected along with anyone else who's ever been sympathetic towards Harry." Luna thought for a moment. "And, you'll need help with the duplicating and the distribution." She smiled at Daphne. "It is very sweet of you to be worried about Ginny and me helping you—"

Daphne snorted in indignation and mumbled, ". . . not that concerned. . . ." Ginny rolled her eyes at her.

"You'll need help. You can trust Ginny and me." Luna looked at Ginny and grinned. "And Neville will most certainly want to have a part in this."

Ginny gasped and smiled herself. "Brilliant! Daphne," she said excitedly, "this is perfect! We can start with the four of us to help with the production of the pamphlets. We'll distribute them right away once we're at school."

"Are we doing it only at Hogwarts?" Luna asked.

Daphne paused before answering. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she finally nodded. "Yeah . . . for now, mind you. I think we should start with the younger, more impressionable of our society. Get them to think about the things I'm gonna write about in these pamphlets. What d'you think?"

Luna and Ginny both agreed.

"I think that's smart for right now," Luna said. "The older members of our society can be very inflexible about new ideas. We can start from the ground up, so to speak, by talking and educating the students. They can talk to their parents, who'll talk to their friends . . ."

"And soon, we've just overturned centuries of prejudices and backwards thinking!" Ginny exclaimed. "_Ooh_!" she grinned mischievously and rubbed her hands together, "I love rebellion!"

Daphne leaned back in her chair and smiled, turning her head at the sound of Molly Weasley's voice calling for the girls to come down the stairs. "With friends like you, changing the world'll be a piece of cauldron cake!"


	15. Chapter 14: A Seditious Enterprise

**A/N: **I wish I owned this; alas I do not! For more back story about Healer Phillip Marcus Stallsworth, please see the last section of "Chapter 26: Starting Over", in my first story, _**Daphne Greengrass and the 6th Year From Hell**_.

Thanks to stella8h8chang for beta-reading this chapter. There's a lot of the beginning that's not been beta-read; I added this whole first section after I got it back from her. Any and all mistakes in it are mine! This chapter brought to you by my immense love for "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report". Any parts that are read aloud by a character are in italics and are set off by single quotation marks.

I'm also doing a small series on Livejournal (link in my profile) that's a canon-compliant version of Michael and Daphne's relationship going back to their sixth year, called "Lessons". Check it out if you wish (and you want more Michael/Daphne goodness)!

Lyrics from "Wonderwall", by Oasis.

* * *

**Chapter 14: A Seditious Enterprise**

She punched and pounded the parchment between her fists. She balled it up with her right hand and tossed it into the rubbish bin just next to her bed.

"I can't get this right!" Ginny exclaimed, flopping her arms down in frustration. They were in Ginny's room, working diligently on their articles for the first issue of their pamphlet. Since it had been her idea, Daphne's assignment would be an article directly critiquing the foundation of the Ministry's assertions that Muggle-borns steal powers. She would be citing several Healers, magical researchers and Sanguigeneticists whose works had previously gone unnoticed by their society. She had been writing furiously for most of the morning.

Ginny had been floundering in a sea of half-started sentences, half-cooked ideas, and half-developed sentiments. She attempted to string together bits and pieces of information about the war that she had picked up from the Burrow and from pestering her brothers and father. However, none of it was translating into what Ginny wanted to write.

A story that came from her guts.

"I want to write about the war but," she shrugged, "It just comes across as . . . as . . ."

Daphne set her quill down and regarded Ginny with both compassion and pity. "It's too superficial?"

"Well . . . yeah!"

"Amateurish?"

"Sure."

"Rather stupid?"

"Hey now!" Ginny gave Daphne a flat look. The Slytherin girl smirked at her.

"Well, you don't have to contribute anything, y'know?" Daphne shrugged. "I reckon I could fill an entire pamphlet with all this shite." She waved her hand over the various parchments and notes that she had retrieved from "a friend" earlier that week. Daphne had been oddly reticent to tell Ginny how and why she had so much anti-Healer information; the only thing she had said was, "You wouldn't believe me if told you."

"Ginny," Daphne said setting her quill down. "Don't worry. I wouldn't stress about it if I were you—"

"No. I want to . . . to contribute something." She puffed out her cheeks and blew out a breath. "I just want to get it right."

Daphne grinned understandingly. "Why don't you take a break. Get some tea or something. Think about it some more. I mean, we've got some time."

She nodded in response. "Do you want anything from the kitchen?"

"Nah. Trying to watch my girlish figure."

"Oh, I think _Michael_ is quite all right with your girlish figure," Ginny smirked and giggled. She shut the door just as Daphne threw a couple of balled-up parchments at her.

Making her way down the stairs, Ginny could hear two female voices on the living room couch. She stopped walking, wanting to see who was downstairs but not wanting to draw attention to herself. She could see her mum, talking animatedly with another woman whose face Ginny couldn't see. Although, the way her hair kept changing from red to brown to blue and back to red again told Ginny all she needed to know about the woman's identity.

"Dear," Molly said, sympathetically patting Tonks' hand, "believe me, as someone who has lived through two wars now, you can't simply trust that people will act as you want them to." She smiled sadly at the younger woman. "Bringing a child into this world right now, with all this violence and these senseless killings, it _scares_ him—"

"You know what's frustrating about this entire _thing_, Molly?" The younger woman leaned forward. "It's making me feel like _I'm _a burden. Like I made a mistake, I forced him to marry me, I got him to impregnate me . . ."

Ginny nearly stumbled backwards on the stairs.

(_Tonks is pregnant?_)

(_Holy crap!_)

(_But she doesn't seem happy about it._)

"I'm like this _thing _that he wants to run away from. Far, far away. . . ." She fell back onto the couch and stretched out, keeping her boots off of the furniture. Tonks rubbed her forehead with her forearm. "I feel like I need to let Remus take his time and sort out his feelings. And that's when I want to chuck our wall clock at his thick skull and tell him to man up and be responsible!" She hissed. "I'm chalking that up to hormones. And stress. _And_ the fact that my parents are still recovering from being tortured." Ginny could see the Auror bow her head; her shoulders shook and she brought her hand up to her face.

Molly gave her a worried look. "How are they doing?"

Tonks sniffed. "They're doing better." She shook her head. "Their house is another matter, though. I keep telling Dad that it's good they didn't burn it down. He keeps saying that he almost wishes that they had." Tonks shrugged. "I told him if he can't wash off the words that they left up on the front of the house, try," she swirled her hand around, "I dunno. Putting his own personal spin on it. Like, instead of the 'M-word', simply cover up a couple of letters. _Pug - blood_!" She flashed her hand with each syllable.

Molly chuckled. "I don't want to say it, because he's your father—"

"But he's got a face like a pug, doesn't he?" Tonks snorted and guffawed. She stopped after a few moments. "It gives my stomach a nasty jolt when I see what they wrote all over the house. How they ransacked every room, touched, broke, and shattered practically everything they owned. Mum said that they Petrified her and Dad and made them watch as they held target practice on all of their belongings. Before they hit them with the Cruciatus Curse."

Molly remained silent, her expression filled with sentiments that did not need to be voiced.

"And Remus is barely there. _Barely present! _ Ever since I told him about the baby, he's been distant with me. Ever since he got back from checking on Harry, Ron and Hermione, he's clammed up completely when I try to talk to him about what we need to do." Tonks let out a frustrated breath.

Ginny felt her heart stop. Remus knew how Ron, Hermione, and Harry were doing. Remus had seen them and talked to them—

(_And now he's acting differently, isn't he?_)

(_What in the world happened?_)

Ginny rubbed at her leg. She was crouched in an awkward kneeling position, and she could feel her muscles starting to cramp up. But she wasn't about to move; she desperately wanted to hear rest of the conversation.

"He tries to help me with Mum and Dad and the house, but," Tonks shook her hands in front of her face, "there's _nothing _coming out of him. And I'm not one of those girls that goes around and asks a bloke how he's feeling, or if I'm making him happy or anything."

"But he's your husband," Molly said with a sad little chuckle.

"That – he – _is . . . _the great idiot!"

The women both chuckled.

Tonks whistled out a breath, puffed out her checks, and turned her head around towards the stairs. "Well, I suppose we can let Ginny come down the rest of the way and join us. I'm sure she has a ton of questions about Harry, Ron and Hermione."

Ginny gaped and came out of hiding. "How did you—? I was as quiet as a mouse up there!"

Tonks just stared at her. "I'm an _Auror_. If I didn't notice things like little witches hiding in dark crevasses, I'd have my arse handed to me daily!" She quickly brought her hand up to her mouth. "Oops! Excuse me, Molly." She winced. "Didn't mean to let that slip out."

Molly smirked at her and stood up. "I'll let it pass, dear. But just this once!" She winked at Tonks and made her way to the kitchen, flicking her wand to get a pot of tea started.

"Well, congratulations then," Ginny said, an awkward grin spreading across her face.

"_I_ think you heard enough of that conversation to ferret out that _Casa Lupin_ is not a bright and happy place to be right now."

Ginny sucked in a breath. "He'll come around, Tonks. All good men do. And Lupin's one of the best."

Tonks smiled at her. "That's really nice but," she glanced at the kitchen, "your mum's got a point. War does something to people. Causes them to do things they wouldn't normally do." She shivered. "War can bring out the worst in others. I could tell you stories about colleagues of mine, of Aurors that came before me, who let the darkest parts of themselves run amuck because they were so caught up in the fight that they lost themselves."

Tonks looked at Ginny and the younger witch flinched under the Auror's unusually piercing gaze. "Sometimes, the _good_ guys were worse than the enemy."

"It . . . is it like, sometimes, you can't tell which side's which?"

Tonks leaned forward and spoke in the most serious tone that Ginny had ever heard from her. "There's always two sides to any war. _You_ are the enemy to the other side, and _they_ are the enemy to you. The thing to always remember about your enemy is _how. _How do they treat you when you're engaged in arms against them? How do _you _handle them? If you've gone into battle and you come out alive and you feel like your soul is still intact, then that's a _very_ good start."

Ginny made no moves. She absorbed the Auror's wise words, her mouth slightly open, her head slowly bobbing up and down. And she started thinking about her family, Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Would such a fate befall them? Would they be forced to see the worst parts of themselves?

And with everything her family, Harry and Hermione have all been through already . . . was the worst yet to come?

How would they come out of this fight with themselves intact?

It hit Ginny like a Bludgeoning Hex right between her eyes.

(_By Godric's mighty sword! The article!_)

(_That's it! Make it personal. Make it about the war, about fighting for your side, and doing it right!_)

"T-thanks, Tonks."

Tonks stared at her, confused. "What for?"

"You've been . . . an _inspiration_ for me." Ginny smiled brightly.

"Well, that's good, I guess," she responded with a chuckle. Tonks swept her feet to the floor and stood up. "Wanna continue this conversation in the kitchen? I'm starving . . . plus," she patted her tummy, "I'm eating for two now."

"Yeah. I'll get Daphne though," Ginny said, thumb pointing up the staircase. "Won't be but a sec!"

Her feet pounded up the stairs, and she threw the door open to her room. Daphne remained seated at the desk, so engrossed in her writing that Ginny's entrance didn't faze her.

"Hey, y'know, I've got so much material here, I might do a series of pamphlets. Probably five for right- . . . er, Ginny?"

Ginny was furiously scribbling sentence after sentence, the words flying out of her, traveling to her quill, given body and shape on the parchment.

She spoke to herself as she wrote, making sure the words flowed directly from her brain to the parchment just as she intended.

" . . . '_A friend once told me that war brings out the worst in ourselves. The words struck me, because my family and my friends are in the middle of this current conflict, and I've watched and observed it from it's very beginning. There were times when I joined in and fought when I needed to._'

"'_The war rages on now, and the people I love are not going to stop fighting until the very end_.'

"'_I wonder about the toll of war on ourselves. We're supposed to be the good side, the protectors of all witches and wizards. But, will there ever come a time when we find ourselves struggling for our own souls? To make sure that we don't fall down or, if we do, will we be able to restore ourselves again?_'

"'_This friend knows what they're talking about. The final words of this conversation were:_ if you've gone into battle and you come out alive and you feel like your soul is still intact, then that's a very good start_. And I most certainly agree with—_'"

"Ginny?"

She looked up. Daphne was standing next to her, a worried look on her face. "Are you all right?"

"I . . . I was downstairs with Tonks and Mum. Did you know she's pregnant?"

Daphne's eyes wend round. Ginny chuckled. "_That_ face just answered my question. Well, she's pregnant. And Lupin's acting funny about it—"

"Funny, how?"

"'Funny' as in not talking to her, clamming up every time she mentions the baby. Something happened when he saw Harry, Ron and Hermione too."

Daphne spluttered. "_He saw them_?! When? How? What happened?"

"Dunno. Tonks and I started talking about the war and," Ginny shrugged and thrust the parchment towards Daphne, "I got inspired."

The Slytherin girl took the parchment into her hands and started reading the words Ginny had written down in a flurry. A smile grew on Daphne's face, growing bigger and bigger as she absorbed each word.

"It's still pretty rough--"

Daphne held up a finger. Ginny stopped talking.

The Slytherin finished and looked back up. "This? Is really good." She chuckled, a little awestruck. "This is personal and really . . . well, I can't think of another word other than gutsy."

Ginny smiled. "Consider my goal accomplished!"

* * *

Ginny marveled how she could read _and_ walk down the precarious set of stairs that led from her room to the Burrow's living room and dining room.

But she couldn't put Daphne's first draft of her article down. It was just so different from anything else she had read, either in _The_ _Daily Prophet _before the coup or _The Quibbler_.

"'_What Stallsworth considered "_good_" research, other called manipulative and dangerous. For example, in her article, "Fallacies and Falsehoods: Disproving the Notion that Muggle-borns are Muggles," published in Magical Genetics Today in 1968, Healer Verity Halifax recreated Stallsworth's infamous 'Muggle-born sampling' experiment from 1910. Healer Halifax determined that Stallsworth's experiment _could only have worked_ if he threw out Muggle-borns whose powers developed at an average pace compared to pure-blood and half-blood magical beings. She also concluded that Stallsworth intentionally focused his research on Muggle-borns whose powers developed unusually — but _not uncommonly_ — late and he tainted his pure-blood and half-blood controls by using magical beings that had developed their powers earlier than the average.'_

"'_We can save the examination about how our society ignores Healers and magical researchers of a certain gender for a later discussion!'_"

Ginny paused her read-through of Daphne's article and smiled broadly. "This is . . . I think '_Wow!_' and '_Blimey!_'are pretty appropriate sentiments."

Daphne grinned. "It sounds all right, then? Understandable? Think your average Hogwarts student might get it?"

"Well, if you're talking about Crabbe and Goyle, my first answer would be no." Ginny looked back down at the parchment and she snorted in amusement. "I really like this passage right here: 'S_o, kids, what have we learned today? A Muggle killed his parents right in front of Stallsworth, and, consequently sent him into a Muggle-hating spiral that affected his research. He also made sure to "_clean up_" his research by manipulating the data and exploiting naturally occurring variables in witches and wizards. And he tied everything up in a little red bow and practically handed over to the dark wizards Grindelwald and Lord _Little-Dick_,__'_" Ginny chortled, "'_everything to _"prove" _Muggle-born aren't magical beings, which is simply not true!_'

"'_And yes, Stallsworth was a right _tit-head_!'_" Ginny gave Daphne a huge grin. "Well done! You've managed to combine information _and_ creative insults all into one article."

Daphne took a small but smug bow. "I'm glad to have your seal of approval." She continued grinning. "You think the students'll want to read it?"

"The way you wrote it, it's extraordinarily informative _but _it's also really entertaining. I mean, if you had written out our History of Magic textbooks, more students would probably have read that too."

"Well, I was trying to go for informative but fun—"

The two girls stopped. Directly in front of them, sitting at the dining room table, were Lee Jordan and Fred and George Weasley.

Lee was explaining something very intensely to Fred and George. The twins were leaning forward, grinning and focusing on every word Lee said. The girls could barely make out the full context of the secretive but enthusiastic conversation; they could hear "passwords" and "transmission" and "wireless signals" being bandied about—

"What're you doing here?" Ginny and Fred and George asked each other simultaneously.

"None of your business!" came the answer from the same speakers.

"We asked you first." Ginny and Daphne both piped up.

Fred, George and Lee all looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"Oh, little ones," Fred said in a very condescending voice, "why don't you two go get one of Mum's tea sets and have a nice Earl Grey with some biscuits. Leave the working and thinking up to us men." He thumped his chest with his palm in a masculine manner, intended to be intimidating.

It was entirely the wrong thing for him to have done, because Ginny whipped out her wand, swirled it around quickly in several swift strokes, and uttered, "_Bovinus Forma_!"

Both of her brothers sprouted pig snouts, hooves and curly tails.

"That's what you get for being chauvinist pigs!" Ginny said casually.

The twins shot out of their seats with a yelp, and Lee stared at them in utter shock — before dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Ignoring her brother's expletives aimed at her spellwork, Ginny trained her wand on Lee and waved it at him in a similar motion.

"_Quackus Forma_!"

Lee jumped up in the air when he realized his mouth and nose were replaced by a duck beak and his hands and feet had turned into flippers.

Daphne chortled as all three blokes tried to hold their wands with their useless animal hands.

"_Runt_!" George grunted with several _oinks_, "Ya can't use our own Varmit-Visage Spells on us! That's just not done!"

"We'll — _oink – oink – oink — _change you into a cockroach if we're not back to normal in _3 – 2 – 1—_"

Lee could only quack indignantly.

"Oh can it, Jordan! You were thinking the same things as Doofus and Dorkus were," Ginny huffed at him. She took a seat at the table and skimmed over the plans that Fred, George and Lee had been discussing intensely when Daphne interrupted them.

"What it is, Ginny?" Daphne asked her as she walked over and stood behind her.

"'_Potterwatch'_?" Ginny looked at Fred and George. "What's this '_Potterwatch_' you three are planning?"

The three half-men, half-animal abominations quacked and oinked in angry protest. Without even looking up at them, Ginny flicked her wand at them.

"_Finite Incantatem_!"

With a muted pop, the twins and Lee Jordan returned to their normal appearances . . . and positively livid expressions.

"We're gonna make sure you regret that, Gin!" Fred and George stormed over to her.

"I never even did anything to you!" Lee exclaimed, throwing his arms out in exasperation.

"Quit your bellyaching and tell me what this is all about." Ginny held up the parchment detailing the project, waving it in their faces impatiently.

"Like we're gonna tell you what that's _all_ _about_ after the stunt you just pulled—" George started. He lunged for the parchment.

Ginny quickly stood up and jumped away from the table, just as Daphne cast a Shield Charm between Ginny and the three angry men.

"Hey!"

"What the f—"

"_Oi_!"

Daphne leaned over Ginny's shoulders as a fresh chorus of protests came from the other side of the shield. Both girls read through the outline, eyes widening as they moved down the page. Fred, George and Lee's furious shouting dulled to measly protests as the girls looked over their plans.

Ginny finished up the document and stared at her brothers. "This? Is absolutely brilliant!"

"I can't believe you came up with this," Daphne said, snatching the parchment from Ginny. She nodded as she continued to read it over. "This is exactly what we were talking about, Ginny. _This_ is exactly what we need — more "anti – You – Know – Who" voices of dissent! Hey," Daphne turned to face Ginny, "we should tell them about our _thing_—"

"What? What 'thing'?" Fred snorted. "Our sister does _not _have a _thing_!"

"Ginny's not getting involved with any of this anti – You – Know – Who . . . _thing_." George gave both Daphne and Ginny stormy, dark looks.

Ginny merely waved him off. "Look, Daphne's the one that came up with our own plan, our own bit of anti – You – Know – Who propaganda. And we're working on the students at Hogwarts."

Fred and George both yelled at the girls simultaneously.

"You're too bloody young, Gin—"

"Fred's right! Don't get involved!"

The twins looked at each other. "Mum'll _kill _us!"

Ginny smirked at the two of them. "I'm already just as involved in this as the both of you are, as the whole family. But Daphne and I aren't gonna use our wands." She looked at Daphne and grinned. "Just words. No wands . . . just words."

Fred and George's wave of angry condescension ebbed to low grumbles. "What do _you _mean 'just words'?"

Both girls grinned mischievously. "Daphne's decided to take on 'The Healer"."

Fred looked confused. "You're arguing with a dead bloke?" He smirked. "That's hardly a fair fight."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I'm taking on his 'research'." She wriggled her fingers like quotation marks. "I wanted to start with the students at Hogwarts, and convince them that the Healer was wrong."

"How're you gonna do that?" George crossed his arms. "No one's ever gone up against that idiot's ideas . . . well, that I know of."

"That's where _you're_ wrong." Ginny walked over to her brothers and showed them Daphne's article. "She's already done research on this for an, er . . . unofficial _project_ for class."

Daphne raised an eyebrow at Ginny, who merely shrugged.

Fred, George and Lee looked over the document, their eyes moving rapidly over the parchment initially, but then slowing down as they started reading it again. Lee read over each point twice, using his finger to guide the tempo and pace as he examined it.

"Well?" Both girls asked impatiently.

Fred and George let out a breath.

"How did you find all of this information?" Lee asked Daphne.

She shrugged. "You've just gotta know where to look. Like, did you know that the Hogwarts library actually has a fairly extensive archive of research and scholarly documents? That's where I found most of the stuff that discounts Healer Stallsworth's conclusions."

Fred snickered. "I barely knew Hogwarts had a library."

"What're you two planning to do with this then?" Lee looked between the two girls.

Ginny gestured from Daphne toward her brothers with an open palm, allowing the other girl to talk.

"So," Daphne began, "We're planning on distributing pamphlets around Hogwarts when term starts. They're going to be concealed until the reader uses a word or a phrase to unlock it. We'll start with the more loyal of the DA, and enlist their help with talking to the students." Daphne looked over at Ginny.

"We don't think it'll be too much of a problem," she finished, "but we don't really know how far the Ministry'll reach inside of the school."

George nodded at his brother and Lee. "The Ministry controls the Board of Governors—"

"Which is being run by You – Know – Who," came Fred's measured reply.

"Plus, the Ministry's already decreed several times that decisions about the leadership of Hogwarts will be made shortly before term starts," offered Lee. "They're being awfully mum about it, if you ask me."

Fred nodded. "Just because we haven't heard anything about Hogwarts shouldn't mean we should take it for granted." He gave a small nod to Ginny and Daphne. "If you do this, you should take precautions."

"Definitely gotta bad feeling about this," George added.

"Which is why we're going to be using passwords and secret phrases," Ginny said. "Only the people we trust will have it available to them, but they can talk to other students and convince them that all the ideas that the Ministry has about Muggle-borns are one-hundred percent _bunk_!"

Lee Jordan pointed a finger at the article. "We should use this too."

The four teenagers turned their attention on him.

"This fits right in with _Potterwatch_." Lee paced in deliberation, pulling at his bottom lip with his fingers as he continued to think. "The Ministry's going after all the Muggle-borns and Muggles that have married into wizarding families — what we need to do is start attacking _why._ Why they're justifying going after them and throwing them into jail. Daphne's research," Lee said, shaking the parchment for emphasis, "will help us do that. And, Ginny and Daphne and their friends might be able to get information for us inside Hogwarts. Let us know what's going on there, so long as they can find a way to do so that won't be a danger for them."

Fred and George looked at Lee with a dubious expression. Lee shook his head at them.

"They can help. They'll be at the school. If things start getting rough, McGonagall's still there. Other teachers're still there. So long as Snape's not interfering—"

Everyone hissed when Snape's name was mentioned.

"We should also incorporate a segment in where we talk about things like this," Lee piped up once again, waving the parchment in front of his face as if it were a bouncing period, punctuating his statement.

"You two busy right now?" Fred asked, lifting his eyebrow.

Ginny and Daphne shook their heads, determined grins growing on their faces.

"We've got all the time in the world," Ginny said in a low, steady voice. The two girls sat down at the table and Fred, George and Lee joined them, bringing them into their plans for _Potterwatch_.

* * *

Daphne splashed her face with water, and took a big gasp of air.

(_Wake – up!_)

(_Wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup!_)

For the past six hours at Eddie Carmichael and Blaise Zabini's flat, she had been reading a whole stack of parchments and documents, all critical of Healer Stallsworth's work.

She had also enlisted a protesting and grumbling Blaise to aid her in her seditious quest.

Daphne had engaged in an extensive session of begging and pleading, and it was only when she'd finally declared that Blaise was the most handsome bloke she had even laid eyes upon, and swore (_with utter and complete exasperation!_) that no other male on the planet could ever approach his devilish good looks that he had finally capitulated and joined her; the entire time he complained that, "This was the absolute _last _thing I wanted to do on this gorgeous day, Greengrass!"

To which Daphne merely scoffed. "You have my undying loyalty, Zabini."

Now, after sitting on her arse, her eyes sore and tired from perusal of an endless amount of various writings and texts, Daphne was fairly certain that if she even got so much as a whiff of parchment, she would promptly vomit.

"Bugger . . . Bugger, bugger, bugger!"

She finished wiping her face and, uttering a few more choice expletives, threw the washcloth into the wet sink and dragged herself back into the dining room.

On her way back to the table and her work, Daphne hummed slowly to herself the Muggle song that she had grown to love over the past couple of months for reasons completely inexplicable to herself. . . .

_"I said maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me. And after all, you're my wonderwa—"_

She stopped.

Right in front of her stood Blaise and Eddie. And they were kissing.

"Whoa!"

They pulled apart, Eddie grinning awkwardly and Blaise blushing, but managing to throw her a very dark look.

Daphne snickered.

"Don't stop on my account, boys. That was a bit naughty but _nice, _if ya know what I mean." She wriggled her eyebrows at them.

Eddie frowned. "Daphne," he said in a measured voice, "despite contrary belief, we are not a show for your entertainment." He turned back to attend to the beef stew that was currently simmering away on the stovetop.

Daphne held her hands up. "Sorry. Didn't mean anything by that." She slid into her chair and picked up her quill. Blaise muttered something about needing air, and he quickly left the room.

Daphne turned around to look at Eddie, who was now the only other occupant in the room. "It's cool, y'know?"

Eddie continued to stir the pot. "What's 'cool'?"

"Well, you. You're cool."

Eddie gave her an odd look, but smiled mildly. "Thank you. I'm glad I've got your seal of approval."

Daphne grinned, and raised an eyebrow, "So Eddie, here you are. You fancy blokes and you're not acting all swishy or anything. You might be a poofter, but you're not shoving it in anyone's face. It's cool that you're like that!"

Daphne started writing with her quill again — when she heard the clatter of the wooden spoon hitting the countertop with unusual force. Turning around, she saw Eddie Carmichael glaring at her with an expression that meant she was in trouble. His bright blue eyes positively sparked with simmering outrage.

"Er. . . was it something I said?"

"_First_," Eddie said, walking with deliberation toward her, holding up one finger, "just because I do 'fancy blokes' doesn't mean I'm any less of a man. I'm one-hundred percent man. _All_. _Man_. Second, something that _you_ should learn, Daphne Greengrass, is you can't just paint people with broad brush strokes."

Daphne was gobsmacked. "What? I just _complemented_ you, you twit—"

"Not really. All _you_ did was demonstrate a lack of basic understanding about human beings."

"The hell?"

Eddie sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Look, comments like the one you made make me feel that I'm just 'gay', or that I'm expected to act a certain way because that fits in with what people think about with someone who's gay." He looked at her and shrugged in tired resignation. "I'm 'Eddie'. I'm a bloke who's from a wealthy family, who wants to be a Healer, who put way too much faith in dried doxy dung brain elixirs to pass his O.W.L.S., _and_ whose significant other just happens to be another bloke! So _no_! I'm not _just cool _because I don't act a certain way. I'm just Eddie." Eddie flung out his arms, opening himself up to Daphne. "It's a part of me, but it's not what I'm all about. Blaise is a bloke whose significant other is another bloke, but you _know _that's not what he's all about!"

Daphne felt herself shrinking backward. "I – I, er . . . didn't mean--"

Eddie waved his hand in front of his face. "No, but you still steered dangerously close to stereotyping me." He pointed at the pile of papers on the table. "You should work on how you look at other people. Especially before you go about trying to change the world."

And with that, Eddie returned to his now boiling pot of beef stew. He turned down the heat.

"Besides, I'd rather be cool as in fighting a dragon's cool, or like traveling around the world's cool," he said in a less aggravated voice.

Nevertheless, the conversation had left Daphne red-faced and a bit shell-shocked with her own misconceptions about Eddie, Blaise and the rest of the world.


	16. Chapter 15: Honor Among Snakes

**A/N: **I own nothing. Thanks to stella8h8chang for looking this chapter over for me, and thank you to all the reviewers and readers who have been faithfully tracking and following this story. I'm still getting around to responding to people from the last update, but I really wanted to let y'all know that your feedback is really appreciated!

Lyrics are from "Nobody Does it Better". Music by Marvin Hamlisch and lyrics by Carole Bayer Sager. From the movie "The Spy Who Loved Me" and sung by Carly Simon. Yes, I'm obsessed with James Bond music, why do you ask?

* * *

**Chapter 15: Honor Among Snakes**

There had been nary a word regarding the status of Hogwarts as the summer holiday entered its final weeks.

Not that either Ginny or Daphne even realized just how quickly time was passing. So caught up in the writing, assembling, and duplicating of their very first pamphlet for the other students, as well as other responsibilities, they never realized that they were already halfway through August.

This day, however, Ginny and Daphne were sitting at the table in the Burrow's dining room. Her mum was in the kitchen, fixing enough food for a small army. Ginny was writing in her diary, and Daphne was finishing off another letter Michael Corner. . . .

Ginny's head perked up; she could hear Daphne humming and singing something under her breath—

"I wasn't lookin', but somehow you found me."

Ginny stared at her; it was the first time she had heard Daphne singing anything.

"There's some kind of magic inside you. That keeps me from runnin', but just keeps it comin'—"

She wasn't sure if it was the song that Daphne was singing or Daphne's surprisingly pleasant voice, but both sounded quite nice.

"—Nobody does it _half _as good as you . . . baby, you're the best!"

"Excuse me?"

Daphne jumped up, clearly startled. "Oh! Er . . . sorry."

"No, no . . . it's okay. Just didn't know what you were singing."

The Slytherin squinted at her parchment. "I'm just . . . I'm trying to write something to Michael in this letter, and I was trying to remember some lyrics to this Muggle ballad—"

"Well, the little bit I heard was really pretty. Didn't know you could sing."

"I can't really. I'll leave that up to him." Daphne pointed at the parchment.

"So," Ginny started, "can I ask what song it was that you were trying to write down?"

Daphne blushed. "It's this song, 'Nobody Does it Better'. It's from a Muggle action movie — a really famous one."

Ginny cocked an eyebrow.

"James Bond." Daphne chuckled. "Elvira Proctor, my foster mother, was just in _love _with the fellow who played him for a few movies in the seventies and eighties. Roger Moore." Daphne snorted and rolled her eyes. "Personally, I'm a Sean Connery girl. _Dashingest_ bloke I've ever laid eyes on!"

Ginny had no idea what Daphne was talking about, but she couldn't help but laugh at Daphne's rather dreamy expression. "How're the letters to Michael going?"

Daphne was looking hers over. "Actually, they're loads of fun to write." Setting down the parchment, she looked over to Ginny. "You know what we do in them?"

Ginny tried to suppress a grimace. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to know.

(_He's my ex-boyfriend, after all! And I really don't want to hear about any bizarre "owl-post sex"—_)

"We try to use as many Muggle and magical songs and lyrics that we can to write out what we want to say to each other." Daphne grinned in a sneaky manner. "It's just . . . I dunno. Kinda sticks it to the Ministry doesn't it? And they won't be the wiser, because they're not familiar with Muggle music." She shrugged. "Also, Michael and I can make sure that we're talking to the other person, y'know? I'll know it's him because he makes sure to toss in at least five sentences from various Led Zeppelin songs, and he'll know it's me because I'm constantly throwing in the Beatles and wizarding pop music!"

"That's a really good idea, Daphne." Ginny nodded her approval.

Daphne flipped her parchment and pointed at a number at the top corner. "This is where we put our song and lyric count. It's become a contest between us, since that letter from the fourth of August. He wrote out lyrics to one song, and then I responded with two songs. He came back with four. Now with each letter, we're trying to outdo the other person."

Ginny laughed and looked at the number on top of Daphne's note. "You've got twenty-five different songs and lyrics in your letter?"

Daphne nodded. "Oh, believe me . . . I'm winning this sucker!"

"What's the prize?" Ginny asked, smirking.

Daphne blushed, shrugged and mumbled awkwardly. She returned to her parchment to put the finishing touches on the letter.

A clanking sound made Ginny turn around.

"Mum? Do you need help?"

"No, dear . . . I'm fine. You and Daphne just continue chatting!"

Ginny watched her mum whirl about the kitchen, stirring multiple pots and pans and pulling out pans of bread. Molly gathered some fruits and vegetables and she Levitated the parcels next to the Burrow's front door.

Ginny knew exactly what her mum was doing. "So, where to today?"

"I think it's 'Griffin' today, dear." Molly paused in mid-stir. "Griffin" was the nickname of one of the seven safe-houses currently being used to shelter numerous wizarding families.

For the past couple of weeks, Molly had been working with a number of other witches and wizards sympathetic to the Order to feed and care for the refugees. Fred, George and Bill and Fleur, both of whom had given up their honeymoon to give aid, assisted with transportation of the displaced. It had been slow going, but they were managing to get the word out little by little that there were places where Muggle-borns could go where they would be safe.

Thus, a small dribble of Muggle-borns and other witches and wizards started turning into a steady stream. Small amounts certainly, but it was encouraging for those who gave their time and energy to the cause.

However, despite the ever-increasing number of volunteers who came to help, it felt like there simply weren't ever enough hands.

"Will the both of you be able to help today?"

Ginny looked at Daphne, and both girls turned toward Molly with disbelieving expressions. "Of course."

Daphne shrugged. "It's not like we've got plans today or anything."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "The two of you have been awfully busy lately. If I didn't know better," she emphasized each word with a jab of her wooden spoon, "I'd say you two were planning on opening your own joke shop."

Ginny flung her hands into the air. "We'll leave the pranks to Fred and George. Daphne and I have just been . . ." her voice faded a bit, and she looked over at Daphne, who was frantically trying to come up with a believable excuse for their current labors.

However, all of that was interrupted by the arrival of Arthur Weasley's head, looking harried and grim, in the fireplace.

"Arthur?" Molly asked, stumbling over a bit of rubbish her magicked broom hadn't yet managed to sweep up.

"Molly, dear, are you almost ready to go to 'our special place'?"

Molly nodded. That phrase was Molly and Arthur's special signal, indicating that she had half-an-hour to pack up all necessities and edibles before traveling the route from Auntie Muriel's home and then to the designated safe-house of the day.

She turned around to the heart of the kitchen, and gave a complicated wave of her wand. Immediately, the stove's flames increased, the spoons stirring the pots and flipping the food in pans sped up, and bread flew out of the oven into portable boxes that stacked themselves on their own.

"I'll be ready to leave in fifteen minutes, dear."

Arthur grinned at his wife, but it was a grin tinged with melancholy. "Molly, you look so tired—"

"I already _said_ I'll be ready in fifteen minutes."

"Molly, why don't you rest? I can get Fleur to help—"

"Arthur," she responded sharply, "I'll be _fine_!"

Arthur sighed. "Ginny, Daphne. You girls should come here. I've got a little information that will affect you."

They scurried over to the fireplace and knelt so they were even with Arthur's head. Molly, divided her attention between the cooking and her husband.

"Dad . . . is there something wrong?" Ginny asked hurriedly. "Is this . . . did something come up about Harry—?"

Arthur shook his head. "It's got nothing to do with Harry, dear. It's about Hogwarts, about your term starting in a few days."

Ginny and Daphne looked at each other, their faces mirroring each other's worry.

Arthur continued. "There have been rumors about who the new Headmaster will be." His face fell even more. "It won't be Professors McGonagall or Flitwick."

"But McGonagall's the most senior — she's the current Acting Headmaster, for Circe's sake!" Daphne exclaimed.

Arthur nodded. "I agree. But they're out of contention due to the coup. Count out Professor Sprout, as well."

Ginny thought for a moment. "What about Slughorn? He used to run Slytherin House. He'd be a logical replacement."

Arthur shut his eyes. "If only the rumors _were _about him. No, Slughorn would be preferable to the alternative."

The color drained from Ginny and Daphne's faces as they sought reassurance that their suspicions were wrong. "It's not Malfoy, is it?" "Or either of the Lestranges?" "The _Carrows_?!" they exclaimed simultaneously.

"No, no." Arthur shook his head. "The rumors are that Severus Snape is to take over Headmaster duties upon your return to school."

Ginny and Daphne gasped. It was the answer they had been dreading. There was a loud clattering of metal and wood as Molly dropped whatever she had been doing and ran over to the fireplace.

"_Arthur_! You can't be serious!" Molly's voice was shaking, filled with anger. "We can't send Ginny and Daphne back to Hogwarts—"

"But we _have _to, Molly!" Arthur let out a breath. "I don't like it at all, but it's the law now. Ministry Decree No. 1938 makes it compulsory for all young witches and wizards to attend Hogwarts; they're even forcing of-age witches and wizards who have not yet taken their N.E.W.T.s to finish their final year."

Arthur could only shake his head. "But dear, even without the decree, if too many families refuse to send their kids back to Hogwarts, we risk both the wrath of the Ministry and letting that school and the Order members working there fall completely to the Death Eaters, to You – Know – Who."

"Mum, Dad's right," Ginny said. "If he is appointed Headmaster, he'll be in a position of power to harm the students or to influence them. We can't let that happen!"

Ginny looked over to Daphne, who had remained quiet during the exchange. Her face was pale, and Ginny was reminded of Bill and Fleur's wedding night, when the Death Eaters invaded the Burrow to search for Harry, Ron and Hermione and Daphne had made herself sick from pandering to Runcorn's lewd interrogatories.

"Daphne?"

She shook her head. "W-why? Why?" she asked the questions in a soft voice. "Snape's a murderer. He killed someone . . . he _killed Dumbledore_!" Daphne's voice was increasing in volume, and Ginny reached out to steady her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "_Why_?! Why is he being rewarded for killing someone—"

Daphne's voice halted, and a wet sob punctuated the end of her sentence. Daphne shot up into the air, and ran upstairs to Percy's bedroom.

Ginny chased after her, barely missing the door being shut in fury. She didn't bother knocking, but she opened the door slowly.

"Daphne?" she asked carefully.

She was sitting on the bed, hunched over, her shoulders shaking.

"Daphne."

"W-wh-why is he coming b-back?" Daphne gasped after each word. Huge tears rolled down her cheeks and Ginny's heart seized up in her chest.

"It's still a rumor." Ginny put a hand on her back and another on Daphne's hand, which lay limp on the bed.

The Slytherin girl rocked back and forth, crying and sobbing and gasping for air. After a few moments, Daphne sniffled and wiped at her nose and face with her hand.

"D-Dum-Dumbledore said I was l-l-like Snape once."

Ginny sucked in a breath, and she felt a surge of sympathy for the girl. "You're . . . you aren't though. Dumbledore was wrong about that," she said inelegantly.

Daphne snorted, making a wet sound as it combined with her tears. "Dumbledore once said — oh! what was it? — that I could 'be quite charming' like Snape, and that I had another side to me, one that 'belied my external charms'." She laughed mirthlessly, but with a cold, harsh bitterness that made Ginny cringe. Her laugh subsided, and she looked off into the distance. "How could Dumbledore've been so wrong?" She shook her head. "He was so wrong about so many, many things. And he died . . . he died because of Snape. And if he thinks I'm like Snape . . . "

"B-but if he could be wrong about Snape, he could be wrong a-about you," said Ginny, attempting to be the voice of reason. But she quickly realized Daphne wasn't really talking to her; it seemed as if the Slytherin was retreating into her own mind.

She had to get her to snap out of it somehow.

"Daphne, um . . . we were going to go with Mum to the safe-house. If you want to stay here, I'll stay with you—"

She sniffled once again, and rubbed her nose with her sleeve. Shaking her head, she continued to sniffle as she got up, swallowed, and started looking around the room. "I'll . . . I'll go with you, Ginny," she said in a muffled, wet voice. "Lemme just find my robes—"

Ginny was already handing them over to her.

Daphne paused and looked down at Ginny's outstretched hand. She raised her head and met Ginny's eyes.

"It's going to be all right, Daphne. I'm here for you, and the rest of my family's here for you."

The Slytherin slowly reached out and took the robe from Ginny, putting it on gingerly. Ginny could hear her continuing to sniffle.

"Do you need a moment?"

Daphne shook her head. "Just let me splash some water on my face and I'll be downstairs in a few seconds." And before waiting for any answer, Daphne walked out of the room and towards the bathroom.

Ginny hoped and prayed, as she made her way downstairs toward her anxious mother, that all Daphne needed right now was a short distraction from the disturbing revelations of the afternoon.

* * *

The next couple of days seemed to have calmed down at the Burrow. Daphne and Ginny scrambled against a rapidly approaching deadline; they wanted to have the pamphlets ready to go by the first Friday of the term, which was nine days away. Everything was almost fully assembled, and Luna had settled on a Concealment Charm that closely resembled the charm used on the Marauder's Map.

Since this was now an illegal activity, due to Ministry Decree No. 1940: Criminalizing Sedition and Libel in Opposition to the Ruling Government and Its Allies, the teenagers all agreed that a simple-to-memorize phrase should be used to activate the parchment. Thus, with a bit of brainstorming over a couple of hours on the day before they were to get their Hogwarts letters, Luna finally came upon the winning choice:

"I Solemnly Swear to Join the Rebellion."

"Ha! This is truly wicked!" Daphne sighed and smiled as she perused the final draft of the newsletter.

"I did think that 'I Solemnly Swear that I Just Saw a Nargle' would be a much happier and nicer choice, but, well, we _are _rebelling, aren't we?" Luna's eyes swept between Ginny and Daphne. "So, asking the students that we show these parchments to to rebel with us is much more appropriate. Plus," she sighed, "Nargles are so painfully shy, and no other students have seen them, or even know that they exist! So they won't be aware of Nargles to remember that as part of the activation phrase."

"Er, yes . . . well," Daphne masked her baffled expression by coughing awkwardly. "So, what do we want to call it?"

Ginny gestured toward Daphne. "This was your idea. I say the honor of naming it should go to you."

"Me?"

Luna nodded in agreement. "Why yes! It's your idea. It's only fitting that you call it whatever you want."

Daphne let out a breath. For her, this finally felt real. The past few weeks, she had put pen to paper and crafted the first major article, which outlined, in a brutal, sarcastic, yet funny, fashion, the major faults found in Healer Stallsworth's research. So big was this project that the three girls had agreed to break it up over a series of five pamphlets.

Ginny had contributed a very personal and moving piece anonymously as well: an article detailing her emotions and her fears as she watched her family and friends go off into battle. She had been inspired by a conversation with Tonks about war and how it could change people.

Presently, Daphne sat in Luna's bedroom with the other two girls. She thought about all possible titles. Daphne felt that the pamphlets needed something catchy . . . a title that grabbed the reader's attention and refused to let go. She thought back to when she lived at Miss Proctor's house, and the taglines for television shows and radio programs that had caught her attention—

Seized by a sudden burst of inspiration, Daphne jumped up out of her seat. She found a blank parchment, a quill and an ink bottle. Dipping the tip of the quill into the ink, she began writing. A flurry of words appeared from the tip.

She wrote non-stop for at least the next half-hour. Finally, dotting a period on her final idea, Daphne held up the parchment and looked over the various title iterations she had thought up. Smiling, she handed the parchment to Ginny and Luna, who immediately buried their faces in it.

Both girls read through to the end while Daphne waited. Almost simultaneously, Luna and Ginny looked up at each other.

"The last one?" they both asked each other at the same time.

The two girls nodded and smiled together. "The last one."

Daphne strode toward them. "That one's all right then?"

"It's perfect, Daphne."

Ginny gave her a thumbs-up.

With her smile growing more and more determined by the second, Daphne Levitated the newsletter in front of her face. As Ginny and Luna stood directly behind her, Daphne swirled her wand, watching as writing appeared in the space at the very top of the pamphlet—

"_**THE SEDITION ACT: Fighting the Ministry One Word at a Time!"**_

* * *

The Saturday before the start of term found the Weasleys and Daphne sitting around the table, eating their breakfast in relative calm. All seemed to have come to terms with the inevitable: Severus Snape could very well be the new Headmaster at Hogwarts.

"We'll just have to see how it works out," Molly said as lightly as she could as she scooped two eggs, over-easy, onto Daphne's plate.

Daphne nodded absent-mindedly. She was preoccupied with other matters, namely a letter she had just received from Michael Corner. She had lost track of exactly how many letters each of them had written — it was easily over ten, possibly closer to twenty. But with each letter came the same reaction from Daphne: she'd pour over it at least twice, giggling and counting each song lyric or name that would pop up, muttering that he was cheating by counting a lyric twice, but smiling — always smiling — as she did so.

Nothing short of the earth exploding could drag her away from his missives.

So engrossed was she in his current correspondence, Daphne had been blissfully ignoring Ginny's teasing about her relationship with Michael and she had turned a deaf ear to any discussion about Snape as Headmaster.

The only thing that could break her concentration was a very persistent poking upon her head. Flicking at it as if it were a pesky fly, she looked up, a very disgruntled expression pasted on her face.

It was Ginny, poking at her with the corner of her Hogwarts envelope.

"Oi!" Ginny exclaimed with a smirk as she continued to jab Daphne. "_Oi_ – _oi_ – _oi_!"

"You're so mature, Weasley."

"Our letters are here." Ginny chucked Daphne's right into her face. For some reason, hers felt heavier than it had in past years. She shrugged to herself.

(_Maybe it's an extra-long book list?_)

"Ahhh," Daphne groaned. "I bloody forgot — N.E.W.T.s!"

"I wondered why your letter felt so heavy. Think they actually _sent_ you your textbooks?" Ginny said, batting her eyes and smirking.

Daphne glared at Ginny, who was already tearing into her letter. As if she were moving in quicksand, Daphne stuck her finger in the corner of the envelope, and pulled it towards her.

"Holy—! I got Quidditch Captain!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Oh, that's wonderful, Ginny!" Molly gave her a squeeze.

"Excellent job, sweetheart," Arthur said, putting aside his newspaper.

"Congrats to you." Daphne had just opened up her envelope, but she was smiling.

"Cheers!" Ginny held up her glass of orange juice to toast her new success.

Daphne followed suit, and the envelope fell out of her hand.

She heard the loud _CLANK!_ of something hard hitting her plate.

Both girls, and Molly and Arthur, stopped in mid-celebration to look at the object that had just tumbled out of the envelope.

There, smack dab into Daphne's runny egg yolks, was a badge.

A silver and green badge.

Above the silver snake that represented Slytherin House were two words: "Head Girl".

Daphne felt her stomach being sucked out of her body. She realized she had been sitting for the past two minutes, staring, open-mouthed, at the object.

"H-Head Guh- . . . girl?" she stammered.

Ginny whistled.

"Oh my!" Molly exclaimed, after a few moments. "Well, I-I do think that, um," Molly put a hand on her shoulder. "I do think this deserves congratulations, Daphne." It was clear Molly was forcing the brightness into her voice; Daphne could only shake her head very slowly.

Molly nudged Arthur, who was staring intensely at the badge, almost as if transfixed by it as a spell.

"You don't think it's a trap, do you?" Daphne asked the table. Her voice was frantic and confused.

"Would you like me to check it out for you?" Arthur asked after a few moments. Daphne nodded.

After a few flicks and incantations, Arthur sat back and gave her a nod. "It checks out Daphne. It's no joke. It's no trap. You _are _the Head Girl this year." And Arthur smiled at her. It didn't quite reach his eyes.

Daphne could only continue to stare at the badge, mute and confused.

Molly turned to her husband and Ginny, giving them both a worried look. "Daphne, did you read your letter?" Molly asked.

Daphne shook her head. Bit by bit, she pulled the letter out of the now fully-opened envelope, and unfolded it. She could feel her eyes very nearly popping out of her skull, as she read the fateful lines—

_Dear Miss Greengrass,_

_It is my pleasure, in this my first year as Headmaster of Hogwarts, to award to you the honor of Head Girl of Hogwarts. As Head Girl, you will be responsible for the following:_

_1.) Overseeing the duties of the prefects and meeting with them once a week, _

_2.) Organizing social events during the fall, winter, and spring terms,_

_3.) Assisting the teachers with maintaining order among the student body,_

_4.) Attending weekly meetings in my office. _

_Please be advised: this is a new requirement that I have decided to implement this year. I will require the presence of __both__ yourself and the Head Boy, Draco Malfoy, in my office, every Friday night, promptly after the conclusion of dinner, to discuss matters related to the school's upkeep and student body, rule enforcement, and issues that we must resolve in the upcoming weeks and in the subsequent terms—_

Her eyes scanned down to the bottom of the letter. She knew whose name she would find, signed at the bottom of the letter. He had hand-picked her for the Head Girl position, out of the blue, with no prior prefect position under her belt.

(_It's not unheard of, Greengrass._)

(_But . . . why?_)

(_Oh, I _think _you know!_)

And at the bottom of the page, there it was, in its full and complete glory—

_Sincerely,_

_Severus Snape_

_Headmaster_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"Wait. _Who _did you say was Head Boy?"

Looking up, Daphne realized she had been reading most of the letter out loud, stopping only when she had gotten to Malfoy's name. She hadn't even realized whose name she had read until Ginny's question interrupted her silent stream of thought.

Quickly, her eyes moved back up to the passage, and this time, she thought her eyes were actually going to explode.

"_D-Dr-Draco_? Draco Malfoy?! _DRACO MALFOY_?" Daphne slammed her hands and the letter on the table. "He's Head Boy?! I'm Head Girl and _he's _Head Boy?!" Daphne fell forward, groaning. She banged her head on the table, and didn't stop banging her head on the table, even after five times.

"Daphne. _Daphne_!" Arthur reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. She stopped hitting herself on the table and looked up at him.

"It's going to be all right, Daphne."

She could only stare at him, shaking her head vigorously. "No!" Daphne said brusquely. "It's _not_ going to be all right." She roughly waved the letter. "Bloody Snape did this so he can . . . I don't know! Spy on us or . . . or try to get me to turn on you, or get information about you, or Harry, or the Order!" Daphne shoved her chair back, and stood up so fast, she knocked over the chair. Grabbing the badge, she looked at it with a fiery resolve, shaking it and talking to herself. "There's only one thing to do about this."

And she shot out of the Burrow.

The other Weasleys were quick on her heels. Daphne knew they were, but she had to get to the pond out behind the Weasleys' back yard. She had to get rid of this thing, this evil, horrible _thing_!

If it had been Dumbledore, or Sprout, or Flitwick, or McGonagall . . . even Slughorn, it would've been better. It would've meant something.

It would've felt like she had actually earned it and deserved it.

As it was, Snape giving her this was wrong. It could only have meant to serve some evil purpose. She knew that much.

She didn't need or want to know the exact reason. All she wanted to do at this moment was chuck it into the water and be done with it.

"Daphne! Wait!"

Daphne had stopped just at the edge of the pond, and her arm was cocked back, ready to let the horrible Head Girl badge fly into the icy depths, never to be seen again.

"What?" she asked, breathing hard and furiously.

"Okay, think about this, willya."

Daphne turned around and saw Molly, Arthur and Ginny all standing behind her. Ginny kept looking at her and she stepped forward to speak to her.

"There's not really much to think about. I get rid of this, and send Snape a nice little note telling him, 'Thank you but shove it up your arse, nonetheless'."

Daphne ignored Molly's scolding for her language. Ginny shook her head, dismissing Daphne's statement.

"What if you could use this to our advantage?"

Daphne narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, to _our_ advantage?"

"Think about it. It sounds like you're going to have a lot of access to Snape's office. I've gotta feeling that's going to come in handy this year."

That _did _make Daphne pause. She started lowering her arm, deep in thought.

"I will, won't I?"

Ginny nodded, slowly and deliberately.

"Wait just one minute, girls." Molly walked over to them. "You will _not_ do anything to put yourselves in harm's way. Do not forget, Snape is a master manipulator _and _he's a murderer!"

"Mum, I'm only talking about emergencies, only if we need his office for anything." Ginny gave her mother as serious an expression as she could muster. Daphne knew it was for show, but Ginny's comments had gotten Daphne to think.

There was definite truth to the fact that now she was a insider. She would have the ability to get into Snape's office for practically any reason, if she requested it.

And putting up with weekly meetings with Snape and Draco Malfoy would be a small price to pay for such a benefit.

Biting her lip, Daphne slowly turned around to face Ginny head on.

"We'll have to be very careful, y'know that, right?"

Ginny nodded vigorously. "You're basically the top girl student at Hogwarts. You'll have the most clout and the most stature in the actual student body. You're going to be fairly visible now, too. This might be more helpful to you, especially if you have to do something under the radar. People might be less likely to think you're involved with," Ginny swirled her hand about, "anything that might pop up, either _written_ or . . . otherwise."

Ginny gave her a subtle wink, and Daphne suppressed a smirk. She continued to look at the youngest Weasley and a smile grew on her face.

"Now, we've got something to say—"

Ginny and Daphne turned to face Arthur. He and Molly approached the two girls.

Arthur began talking first. "I do not want to hear either of you engaging in heroics, or putting yourselves in any unnecessary danger."

"If there is even a _whiff _of any perilous situations, or if anyone starts coming after you, you are to inform the other teachers immediately—"

"Start with McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout or Hagrid, I know Mum."

Molly continued, nonplussed. "And find Poppy Pomfrey straightaway—"

"If we're hurt or otherwise engaged in fisticuffs or wizard duels or fall victim to a particularly rough hex," Daphne finished. "Right, Molly?"

Molly set her mouth in a straight line, and looked at her husband with anxious eyes and a worried face. Arthur patted her on the back, and turned once again to the two girls.

"Be careful, this year. Our enemies are everywhere. Be very wary of the people you trust, and always, _always_ be on alert."

"And contact us straightaway if you are in trouble."

"Mum," Ginny said, touching her mother's shoulders. "We'll be fine. We'll look after each other. There are adults at the school that we can trust and that we can turn to."

"Molly, I won't be afraid to ask for help." Daphne approached the older woman. "If I need any of you, I'll ask for you."

Daphne managed to smile for Molly. The two older Weasleys looked at the two girls, the worry still evident on their faces, but smiling all the same.


	17. Chapter 16: The Conspiracy Express

**A/N: **Sanguigenetics is my own concept: it is the study of the origins and genetic inheritance of magical blood properties. Hence, Sanguigeneticists study Sanguigenetics. I first mention this in my story, _**Daphne Greengrass and the 6**__**th**__** Year From Hell, **_chapter 26: Starting Over.

Much thanks to stella8h8chang for her invaluable comments, beta-read, and making sure I take care of Slughorn.

* * *

**Chapter 16: The Conspiracy Express**

"You make the absolute _worst _Head Girl I've ever seen!"

"Blaise, has anyone ever told you that your personality is like a heady stream of hag piss?"

"Only you, Greengrass. Only you."

Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass had just emerged onto Platform 9¾ . Daphne had been forced to listen as Blaise critiqued every single aspect of her new status as Hogwarts Head Girl. Her appearance, her speech, her personality, and, worst of all, her _hair _— nothing had been off-limits to the unofficial king of Slytherin House.

After the girls' Hogwarts letters had arrived, Daphne and Arthur had come up with the plan for Daphne to travel to King's Cross with Blaise in an attempt to minimize her relationship with the Weasleys. Daphne and Arthur had Flooed to Diagon Alley to pick up school books and other items. It was then that they had asked Blaise to accompany her the next day.

Daphne had arrived early at Blaise and Eddie's flat this morning just before they were to take off to Hogwarts. However, Daphne was seriously beginning to regret the plan as Blaise had answered the door in a spectacularly foul mood. Of course, it hadn't _really _helped that Daphne had kept inquiring whether she had interrupted _anything_ between Blaise and Eddie — and had kept asking for details, if there were any.

Blaise dropped his trunk, as did Daphne. She took in the scene.

"_Holy_ _sh_—"

Daphne's voice drifted off. She had never seen so many students waiting for the Hogwarts' Express. She sighed in exasperation. "Damn! Look at all these midgets . . ."

"I suppose this is what 'Ministry-required attendance' gets you."

She nodded at her traveling companion. "Well, I think _my _job just got harder." Daphne noticed, however, that the parents who were watching their children and seeing them off seemed to be on hyper-alert mode, looking around them and over their shoulders at least once every five minutes.

Even worse, there were several families that seemed to be missing one parent. Many of the younger children were huddled close to a single mother or father.

"Wait!" Daphne exclaimed suddenly, "Don't most of the older students get here by twenty-five 'til?"

Blaise checked his watch and nodded. "It's almost _forty_-five minutes before departure. The Express is going to be wretchedly crowded this trip."

Daphne was about to respond when she felt a tug on her robes. "Excuse me?" came a quiet, high-pitched voice to Daphne's right. There stood a young girl looking scared and timid. "Um, miss? You're the H-Head Girl, right?" she squeaked out nervously.

Daphne blinked. "Er . . . I'm, er, yeah. Yes, I am Head Girl."

"C-Could you tell me, well, I'm new. This is my first year, and I'm not quite sure . . . "

Several other children had gathered around Blaise, Daphne and this new girl. Blaise was trying to wave them off with a brusque, "No I'm _not _the effin' Head Boy! Talk to _her_!" Daphne tried to position herself so the group could see and hear her properly.

"That's the Head Girl?"

"Miss! We've got questions—"

"What House are you in?"

"What's going on at the school? Is it true about the new Headmaster?"

"_Hold on_!" Daphne's hands shot up in the air. She looked at their faces, a mix of worry, fear and impatience. "All right now. Let me just start with the first question. Yes, I'm the Head Girl. I'm in Slytherin House. The new Headmaster is Severus Snape. I've got no idea what's going on at the school."

"M-miss?" The girl who had approached Daphne initially started talking again. "M-my mum and dad are really worried. They h-hear things about what's been going on, that the school's been taken over by dangerous men and they're worried—"

"Whoa, whoa. Well," Daphne said, taking in a couple more deep breaths. She looked at this little girl and then glanced back up at the other students. "Okay, I can tell you all of you that I do know a lot of the, er. . . ." She thought for a moment.

(_Maybe focus on the teachers, or Heads of Houses, that are affiliated with the Order for now?_)

"McGonagall is tough," Daphne continued, "She's the Head of Gryffindor, but she's really fair and she can _help_ you." She nodded and stressed the word, hoping her message would come across as intended. "There's also Flitwick and Sprout; Flitwick's Head of Ravenclaw and Sprout's for Hufflepuff. They're both really nice. Tough, but fair, and they're good people to talk to, regardless of whatever House you end up in."

"Who's Head of Slytherin?"

Daphne sucked in a breath. She wasn't sure whether or not Horace Slughorn could be trusted. On one hand, he was the Head of her own House, and she knew first-hand about people not trusting her based solely on the fact that she was in Slytherin. Plus, Arthur Weasley wasn't lying when he said that he preferred Slughorn being named Headmaster of Hogwarts rather than Severus Snape, which was something she most certainly agreed with. But on the other hand . . .

(_That bastard ignored me all of last year! And I'm the second best Potions student too. Right after Hermione Granger!_)

(_Stupid half-blood Prince book of Harry's—_)

"I think Slughorn's okay, too. Um, but stick to those three other professors."

"Hey . . . aren't _you_ in Slytherin?" asked a boy with an expression that made Daphne think she was covered in dung. "How come _you_ think _we_ shouldn't trust him?" He crossed his arms and Daphne looked closer at him, thinking that he seemed familiar.

"You're not related to Zacharias Smith, are you?"

The boy narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm his cousin, Alfred."

"Figures," she mumbled out of earshot. "Okay, my mistake! Trust him, okay? Slughorn. But only those teachers that I just said."

She looked back down at the little girl who started this whole conversation.

"D-Do you know anything about the new Headmaster?"

Daphne swallowed. "I'll only say this. And all of you heed my words. _Don't – cross_ – _him_. Don't talk to him. Don't approach him. If you have any problems, find the professors that I just mentioned—"

"McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Slughorn," piped up a boy from the back.

"Right. Also, go to the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey. Or go see Hagrid the gamekeeper. He's in a hut near the forest. Or come and find me. My name's Daphne Greengrass, all right?"

She watched as a number of them nodded and repeated her name.

"Okay! Now, say good-bye to your families and find a spot on the train. The Express will be filling up fast, so it'd be good to get a compartment early." And Daphne smiled, hoping she was reassuring them. They complied with her orders and returned to their families to start gathering their things.

"Pathetic!"

Daphne stood stock still.

(_Great_! _Just effing great!_)

She turned slowly to face the speaker. Blaise was already standing up, glaring at Hogwarts' newest Head Boy.

"Malfoy."

"_Greengrass_." His silvery eyes narrowed to skinny little slits.

Daphne walked forward. She stood very close to him and regarded the prick carefully. Malfoy looked just as bad as he had toward the end of the last year; even if he spoke with the same casual malice as before. But Daphne noticed there was something about his attitude that made it seem like he was holding back.

"Nice to see you, _Head Boy_," Daphne said, her voice thick with sarcasm.

Malfoy sneered at her. "Enjoy your summer with the Weasels? Suppose they had to pawn off one of their brood to feed you." His hand waved at the air above her head. "You reek of their poverty, you know."

Daphne just rolled her eyes. "Well, here I thought you might have changed over the summer. But you're still the same sleazy bastard that you've always been." She flicked at his badge. "I've got one of these now, Malfoy. I've got just as much pull as you do here at the school."

"Don't bet on _that_!" Malfoy leaned forward in a menacing manner. "They know all about you, Greengrass. Snape handpicked you just so he can get the goods on the most disgusting and traitorous pure-blood family that has ever existed!" He puffed out air through his nose and Daphne felt it on her face. "They _know_ about you, and they can't _wait _to get their hands all over you."

Daphne swallowed and she felt her breathing increase. "If I didn't know better, Malfoy," she said, forcing her voice to stay steady, "I'd say you were trying to _warn_ me."

That produced a very unexpected reaction from the Head Boy, who blanched immediately and pivoted sharply around. He walked back toward his own belongings without another word.

From her other side, Blaise whistled.

"Well, that was something!"

Daphne glared at him. "Thanks for all your _help, _Blaise."

He shrugged. "You had it under control."

She was just about to open her mouth, when she saw a very familiar face emerge from the platform barrier. Her heart thudded in her chest and she felt her stomach do several somersaults in a row.

Blaise rolled his eyes, and shoved her with his shoulder. "Go on . . . y'know you want to."

Daphne grinned and she started running, throwing herself into the open arms of—

"_Michael_!" she exclaimed, panting but laughing.

"Hey there, fair Miss Greengrass," Michael Corner said. Daphne grinned even wider, hearing the smile in his voice. They pulled apart, looking at each other as if they were the only two people in the whole world.

Somewhere, to the right of her, someone gave a very loud, very _demanding_ cough to get their attentions.

"What am I? Troll dung?"

Daphne looked over at Terry Boot, who smirked at her.

"Terry Boot . . . er, _Terry_! Well, hi, uh . . .yourself." Daphne gave his hand a shake. She jerked her head over to a quiet, shaded corner on the platform. "Can I talk to the two of you for one sec?"

"Sure," Michael and Terry looked at each other. "We're just waiting on—"

As if on cue, the barrier rippled, and out popped Anthony Goldstein. He brushed off his robes, and smiled at his two friends, when his eyes moved downward, just below Michael.

"Er . . . Daphne Greengrass," Anthony said. He held his head back and looked at Daphne in an exceedingly haughty and arrogant manner.

Daphne rolled her eyes and gave another nod in resignation.

"Okay, the _three _of you . . . over here." She beckoned for them to follow her into the shady corner.

"What's going on?" Michael asked her.

"_This_ is what's going on." She pulled on her robes and thrust her Head Girl badge into Michael's face.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed.

"Blimey! _You're _Head Girl?" Terry gaped in disbelief.

"I don't believe it!"

Daphne wanted to laugh at Anthony's shocked expression — it looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. "I know_. I know_."

"Snape picked you for this, didn't he?"

Daphne nodded. Michael's face fell, and suddenly, he started chewing on his lip and rubbing the back of his neck. He was growing increasingly tense.

"I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, Daphne."

"_I know._" She spoke in a measured voice.

"I mean, I wanna congratulate you about it, but this is—"

"Weird? Not to mention suspicious?"

Michael nodded. Daphne could see the worry in his eyes.

"Believe me, Michael, Arthur Weasley ran all sorts of spells and made sure it wasn't gonna go all wonky on me. It hasn't." Daphne stepped closer to him. "But I can't shake this feeling like Snape gave this to me with some ulterior motive in mind."

"Like what, do you think?"

Daphne shrugged. "Damned if I know. But, if this is for real, I plan to use this to our advantage."

Michael raised an eyebrow, and looked at her in a very smug, yet teasing manner. "When you say to _our _advantage—" Terry snorted at his friend.

Daphne smacked him on the arm. "I mean . . . look, I'll tell you later. Find Ginny and Luna and Neville on the train. We need you, okay?"

Michael nodded.

Daphne looked at Terry Boot. "You can join him too, all right?"

Terry shrugged and pointed at the Head Girl badge. "Sure! If Mike here doesn't want to use that to his 'advantage' . . . _Ow_!" Michael elbowed his friend in the guts.

Huffing at them, she then addressed Anthony Goldstein. "I don't really like_ you_, you know?"

Anthony narrowed his eyes at her. "Can't say I think too much about you, Greengrass."

"Fine. Cleared that up. But you like them, right?" She thumbed toward Michael and Terry's direction.

Anthony nodded, still looking at Daphne suspiciously.

"You two trust him?" Daphne addressed the question to both Michael and Terry.

The boys nodded.

"He wouldn't do anything to turn either of you in, right?"

"Daphne, I've known and trusted Tony since first year. And Tony did a lot for both Terry and myself. Gave us both homes so our families could try to get to safety." Michael put his hands on her shoulders, and Daphne instantly relaxed. "He's like a brother to me. Terry too." The other boy nodded in agreement.

Anthony rolled his eyes but he colored just a little bit in his cheeks and he suppressed a grin. "Such a sap, Corner."

Michael smirked; he continued to talk to Daphne. "I can and will vouch for him. You don't have to like him, but you can trust him."

"All right, fine. I'll just let you know, the stuff we need help with is not quite . . ." She thought for a few moments.

"Legal?" Michael finished.

"Guess that's one way to put it. We do need help with it, though. And we wanted to hit as many original members of Dumbledore's Army as possible. So, are you in?"

The three boys nodded at her, and Daphne exhaled in relief.

"Great! Now," she said, voice filled with exasperation, "I've gotta start helping with loading and meet up with the Head Boy—"

"Oh, yeah. Who's Head Boy this year?"

"_Greengrass_!" came the all-too familiar voice, shouting her name with authority.

"Speak of the devil," she muttered, just as Malfoy emerged, a livid expression on his face.

"_Malfoy_?! Malfoy's Head Boy?" Michael whispered harshly. He looked both stunned and outraged. Terry grimaced.

Anthony hissed. "I may not like you, Greengrass, but I do feel for you."

"Er, thanks, I guess." Daphne headed toward the blond ferret. "I'll catch up with you." She looked to make sure Malfoy couldn't hear her. "_Later._" she whispered.

"Be careful, Daphne. I'll see you in a little while.

And she left, but she did allow herself one last look over her shoulder, catching Michael winking and giving her a sweet smile that left her feeling warm and content inside.

* * *

"We're still waiting for Daphne."

Ginny poked her head out into the corridor of the train. Half the trip was already over, and she had seen Daphne pass by their carriage several times, Malfoy doing everything in his power to stay several paces ahead of her.

For her part, Daphne kept looking at Malfoy like he was made out of stinksap.

The compartment was very crowded, as Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, and Anthony Goldstein were pretty much piled on top of each other.

Ginny looked at her old boyfriend.

(_This is . . . a really tight fit, no?_)

The train ride had been the longest amount of time that she had spent with Michael since their break-up at the end of her fourth year. They had been polite enough with each other, forcing out smiles and small talk. But there was a definite tension between the pair of them, and Ginny felt the distinct, uneasy sensation that there were some unresolved matters to be dealt with.

She knew there were no more feelings between them; their relationship had ended well over a year ago, and a year can be mere seconds for matters of the teenage heart. Michael had moved on to Cho Chang, and she had had her fun with Dean Thomas. And by the end of her fifth year and his sixth, they had moved on to far more serious relationships — with Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass respectively.

However, as they conversed, Ginny simply couldn't shake the feeling that she and Michael needed to address something about their relationship; perhaps if whatever _it _was finally came out, they could move beyond this stilted awkwardness.

Currently, however, there would be no heart-to-heart; Michael seemed more than willing to sit back and let the always chatty Terry Boot fill in the gaps in conversation.

It was in the middle of a hilarious story about Filch catching Terry with Su Li a couple of weeks before last term ended ("Don't ever try human transfiguration when you're in a tight jam. Not to hide from Filch or _anybody _else. And _definitely not _when you're half-starkers!") that the compartment door slid open. Daphne Greengrass squeezed into the already tight space. Terry scooted over to make room beside Michael.

"It's absolute crap, I tell ya! Malfoy's got no business being Head Boy. He's a prick, and he's acting like a nasty little bugger to the little ones." Daphne fell back into the seat, her right shoulder happening to fall right into Michael's left. He brought his arm up around her, and the two teenagers smiled, looking at each other and practically forgetting anyone else was ever nearby.

Ginny and Anthony Goldstein rolled their eyes; Ginny smirked, but Anthony just shook his head.

Neville cleared his throat. "Hey, er, Daphne. If you're comfortable," he said, with an awkward, but humor-filled grin, "can we go ahead and talk about your plans?"

Daphne and Michael blushed; she nodded at Ginny to start them off.

"So," Ginny began, casting the Muffliato Charm on the compartment, "this was Daphne's idea, a way to get information out to the students. The ones who might not be so tied to the old ways of thinking, the ones who can help change the way things are in our society."

"And Daphne decided to write a pamphlet," Luna continued. "She wrote out a critique of 'The Healer's' research!"

"Wait, wait," Anthony leaned forward. "A 'critique'? I'm sorry, but as cracked up as Stallsworth's conclusions are, a couple of sentences by a Hogwarts student isn't going to make much difference to anybody." He snorted and shook his head, his words filled with the doubt that clouded the three Ravenclaws' faces. "It's not going to change any one's mind—"

Daphne shrugged. "It's not just my words, Anthony."

He looked at her, his brow creased. "What do you mean, not just _your _words?"

Daphne grinned. "Read it yourself. All of you. Neville, here's a copy for you." She handed a parchment to Michael. Terry and Anthony and gave one to Neville.

The three Ravenclaws leaned forward to read the article. Daphne reclined a bit to allow Terry to read over her.

"'_Muggle-borns and the Ministry: LIES!_' by '_Nonnie Mouse_'?'"

"_Godric_, Terry, why don'tcha say that a little louder? I don't think You-Know-Who heard you!"

Terry Boot glared at Daphne and a snickering Michael Corner. "'Nonnie Mouse'?" he asked Daphne.

" '_Nonnie_ _Mouse_. 'Nony – mous'. '_A-_non-_y_-mous'."

"Ah!" Terry, Michael and Anthony said together. Anthony read the next few lines in a softer voice.

"'_I've been a close observer of this war. I know about all the information being spread to the public. And, I must say, the only thing I find worse than being the chamber pot for a troll with dysentery_—'" Terry and Michael snorted loudly, while Anthony grimaced, "'_is being told lies and falsehoods about anything_!'"

Terry looked up at Daphne. "I assume _you_ wrote this? I dunno of any other bird who would think of troll diarrhea as context for something."

She flashed him a flat look.

Anthony kept reading. "'_I like facts. For example — FACT: Lord Nutless Wonder murders in cold-blood on a daily basis. FACT: So do his minions. FACT: Harry Potter is a normal teenager who is also the only one who can stop him. FACT: He is doing what he needs to do to stop him._'"

Anthony continued on, "'_What I don't have any proof of is this notion that Muggle-borns steal powers. I've known several Muggle-borns, and I've spent time with them. Not once have they stolen my wand or any other wand. Not once do I feel magically weaker because of spending time with them. Most of the time, I actually feel like Muggle-borns were giving me a run for my Galleons!_'"

Several minutes passed, and the Ravenclaw boys continued to read. One would point at something, and the others would mutter or nod their heads or hiss in shock.

"Oh, this one's great," Terry piped up. "'_After Healer Sagacity's thorough scholarly rebuke of Stallsworth's methodology, the idea that Muggle-borns steal magic should have been as ludicrous as Severus Snape winning_ _Mr_. _Congeniality_!'"

Michael snorted and laughed, much louder than he had intended. "I never thought I'd ever see someone refer to You-Know-Who as '_Lord_ _Rottencrotch'_!" He had to pause a second to wipe at his teary eyes and catch his breath, as hard as he was laughing.

"Well, there's plenty more where that came from." Daphne smirked and pointed to her head.

Finally, reaching the end of the article, all three boys' eyes widened in concert. Ginny and Luna looked over at Daphne and chuckled.

Michael lifted his head, grinning. He turned to Anthony. "Tony, you're unquestionably the smartest of the three of us. What do you make of this?"

Anthony kept his eyes on the parchment, and Ginny could see him trying to hold back a grin. He coughed a bit awkwardly and rubbed his chin, apparently brooding about what he had just read. He slowly turned toward Daphne. "Where did you get this information?"

"Ask Madam Pince to go directly into Hogwarts' extensive Parchment Archive. I cited approximately half the researchers, Healers and Sanguigeneticists that were available in the collection."

Anthony shook his head very quickly. "But why wouldn't this have been made public?"

"Anthony . . . _Tony_," Daphne said, speaking to him slowly, as if he should have known the answer. "You're in Ravenclaw, as was Healer Stallsworth. Don't you _know_ how politically connected his family was? How he was born into wealth and privilege? How he had an uncle who convinced him Muggle-borns stole their magic? Anthony." Daphne beckoned toward him with her finger. "I hate to break it to you, but if someone has enough money, if someone knows all the right people, well, it makes it that much harder for their critics to get a foot in the door."

He glowered at her. "Point. _Taken._ And I _hate_ to break it to you, Daphne Greengrass, but even if all of this is true and accurate," he shook the parchment in front of her, "it's not going to make any difference at all." He spoke with the same tone that Daphne had used on him.

"I think it's a brilliant idea."

Everyone turned to look at Neville. He shook the parchment in front of him. "If we want to do something about what's going on with the Ministry, and what'll be going on at Hogwarts, this is a good start." He looked at the other students, giving them a sad smile.

"It reminds me of our second year, y'know?" Neville chewed on his lips. "I remember what happened with the Chamber of Secrets and that _monster_ petrifying Muggle-borns all over school—"

Ginny shifted in her seat. She tried to suppress her shaking body as Neville talked about what happened during her first year, not knowing that he was describing the events that she herself had set into motion.

She wanted to scream out as he continued to talk, but she did not.

"—And think about all the Muggle-borns we know. Colin Creevey, his brother Dennis. Hermione Granger—"

Ginny noticed Anthony Goldstein blush a little at Hermione's name.

"And Dean Thomas." He finished, giving Ginny a sad look. He smiled and Ginny noticed his eyes were moist. "They're all worth fifty of Malfoy . . . one-hundred even. A thousand! Well," he chuckled softly, "you get the idea."

"Su Li too," Terry Boot spoke up; it was the first time that he appeared pained to speak. "They used to yell things out at her all the time." He shook his head. "If I could've, I would've kicked their arses all the way back to Bristol."

"Don't forget Penelope Clearwater." Anthony added. "Or Kevin Entwhistle . . . or Stewart Ackerley." He nodded purposefully a couple of times. "I think that's all in Ravenclaw that I remember."

"I'm definitely doing this." Neville looked at the others. "I mean, I've got to do something, you know? And if anyone else wants to speak up about what's going on with the Ministry and the lies that they're spreading, they need to have the chance. We need to hear from them!"

Daphne nodded approvingly at Neville. "Well said." She looked at the three Ravenclaws that were sharing the compartment with them. "I know it seems futile, but I want to do _something_! And it should be bold. _Audacious_! The pamphlets are already done. We'll hand them out to the students here. We've also given the same information to the people that run _Potterwatch_."

The three boys looked at each other. Luna and Ginny just smiled at themselves.

"What's _Potterwatch_?" Terry asked.

Ginny answered. "It's a specially coded wireless broadcast. You'll need to have a password for it." She looked at the Ravenclaws who were obviously intrigued. "It's a way to get the information about what's going on with the war and the movement against You-Know-Who, and for people to find out information about their loved ones."

(_And to keep their spirits up . . . keep their faith in Harry._)

She smiled, holding back a couple of tears that threatened to fall. "_Potterwatch_'ll get information out to the public and they're going to discuss all the lies that the Ministry's spreading. Debunk them. Get the facts out to the wizarding community, to anyone who'll listen."

"So why bother with this newsletter?" Anthony asked. "Anyone finds out about this, the Ministry'll just lock you up for speaking out against them."

"Because," Daphne said, in a steady voice, "the students that go here want to learn, and we're all going to make sure that they get both sides of the story, that they're not going to run around uneducated and ignorant because they don't realize just how faulty this pure-blood crap is."

"It's up to us." Neville spoke softly and licked at his dry lips. "I'm sure there'll be students who refuse to believe anything other than what the Ministry says is right." He voice grew stronger and he spoke more assertively. "But I think it'll be worth it if we can convince even one student that this is wrong. If we do this right, Snape and those other two—"

"The Carrows?"

Neville nodded at Ginny. "Maybe they won't be able to find out about us." Ginny could hear the growing confidence and strength in Neville's voice. "We want to keep this quiet, we don't want to get hurt, but I don't want anyone to say that they didn't know better."

Daphne smiled at the Gryffindor boy. "Couldn't have said it better myself, Neville." She turned back to the other Ravenclaws. "Neville's right. I'm in this crap now, and I'd rather say that I was on the right side. Because I know _they're _wrong."

"The one thing they don't have is the numbers," Luna added. "We may not have that many who will fight with us, but with every attack and with each death, they lose more people that they could have had on their side." She spoke up in a surprisingly calm and even tone, losing just a bit of that normally dreamy demeanor that she always seemed to possess regardless. "With every law they pass, they harm hundreds, if not thousands of magical families that they tear apart." She shook her head and kept her eyes on them. "I hold no illusions that _that's_ going to endear people to the Death Eaters' cause!"

Michael looked at Terry and Anthony. The three boys seemed to have been humbled.

"Daphne," Michael said, holding up the newsletter, "you realize you've already broken the law, right?"

Daphne smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders. "It was a shit law to begin with."

Michael snorted and laughed. Bowing his head between his arms, he breathed out three times. He slowly lifted his head up.

"Count me in. Whatever needs to be done. I'll do it."

Terry and Anthony both spoke up right after Michael. "Me too!" They spoke at the same time. Meeting each other's eyes, Terry and Anthony laughed and gave each other a little fist bump across Daphne and Michael's laps.

"Fantastic!" Ginny unrolled a second parchment, one that already had four signatures on it, and Conjured a quill. "As charter members of Dumbledore's Army, I'm sure you boys remember how this works?"

A chorus of groans sounded from across the compartment.

"Oh, come _on_!" Ginny said exasperated. "You can't expect us to conspire in a number of offenses that will get us time in Azkaban and _not _take precautions."

"You fellows _are _in Ravenclaw, correct?" Daphne added to Ginny's remark.

"Well, yeah, we are—" Michael whinged.

"You don't think we're stupid or anything, do you?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I never said that!" Michael exclaimed.

"All right then, Mr. Smarty-pants." Daphne waved at the parchment. "Read and sign."

Michael looked at Daphne suspiciously. "Will this one make 'SNEAK' appear on my forehead too? I still haven't quite got over what happened with Marietta Edgecombe our fifth year."

Daphne leaned forward, a mischievous expression on her face. "It's a surprise." She smirked at him. "We're not as clean or as precise as Hermione Granger, so you won't have any words on your face, but it will be a far _messier _punishment."

Michael's face fell, "Er . . . not your Bat-Bogey Hex?" he asked Ginny.

Ginny shook her head with a similar grin as Daphne's, "Worse."

Michael gulped, signed, and passed the quill to Terry, who then tossed it over to Anthony.

Daphne patted Michael's arm. "I knew you'd come through," she said cheekily.

"You _owe _me, I hope you realize that." He looked as though he was angry at first, but his face melted into his very cheeky grin. Daphne smiled smugly at him.

The students rolled up and concealed the documents. Daphne bid the group farewell with a frown as she set forth to continue her duties with Draco Malfoy.


	18. Chapter 17: The Feast from Hell

**A/N: **I own nothing. Below, you'll find my own personal attempt at a Sorting Hat song. I owe a ton of thanks to stella8h8chang for reassuring me that it's not rubbish and for helping me out with the rhythm of the song. Poetry and songwriting is so not my forte, but it is definitely hers. I now have a new respect for JKR and her writing style.

* * *

**Chapter 17: The Feast from Hell**

"Firs' years, over here!"

Rubeus Hagrid's mighty yell cut through the commotion of students: the older ones, clamoring to get to Thestral-drawn carriages, and the little first-years, struggling to reach the giant gamekeeper who would lead them to their boats.

Daphne Greengrass was stumbling through the mass, trying to get to the front to talk quickly with the half-giant.

"Daphne!" Hagrid boomed. "Yeh doin' al'righ'?" There was a weary heaviness in his voice.

"Cheers, Hagrid," she said with haste; there was nothing cheery about her greeting. "How're things up at the school?" There was a note of caution in her voice.

"Oh, it's a righ' crime, I'm tellin' ya!" Hagrid shook his great big head vigorously; Daphne thought she felt the ground shake underneath her feet as he stomped both feet on the ground in agitation. "I can' _believe_ tha'—" Hagrid leaned towards her; the Slytherin leaned away, anticipating more bellowing and projectile spittle. "I can't believe that ruddy _bastard_, that _murderer_, dares to dirty Dumbledore's office!" Hagrid straightened himself up. "I had a mind to toss him ou' on his, well, his you – know – wha'!"

Daphne had no chance to agree with him, because, at that moment, she felt a violent tug on her robes.

"_Malfoy_!" Hagrid pointed a large, angry finger at the Head Boy. "You don' manhandle girls like tha'—"

Malfoy sneered at the rebuke. "_Good thing,_" he spoke loud enough so only she could hear. "I was manhandling a common street whore."

Daphne snapped her body around and bared her teeth. "Do your _fucking _job, Malfoy, and leave the snide comments alone, or else—"

"Else what?"

"Or else," she pushed her face towards him, "I'll make sure every single student here knows where you were the night Dumbledore died."

Malfoy laughed cruelly. "Go – _ahead_ Greengrass, if you haven't noticed yet — we _won_! The Ministry'll celebrate my role in bringing down the Headmaster. _They'll _respect _me_!" He jabbed at his chest with his finger.

"If that's the case, then why do you look like you haven't slept in the past nine months?"

Malfoy retreated away from her, still staring her down.

She smirked at him and crossed her arms. "I bet it's eating away at you. You look like shit on the bottom of my shoe, and _I_ – _know – _ _why_."

Malfoy gritted his teeth. Without a sound, he flung himself away from her and began yelling, "_OLDER STUDENTS! GET YOUR ARSES IN THE CARRIAGES — NOW!_" He stormed toward them, flapping and flailing at the students who were standing at the carriages just as they were pulling up.

"Bloody hell, Daphne."

She jumped and faced the speaker. Ginny Weasley patted her on the shoulder. "You handling the prat all right?"

Daphne sagged her shoulders and groaned. "I'm in hell. I know it." She rubbed her face. "I'm in the fifth concentric circle of hell, and Draco Malfoy's the demon sent to torment me . . . or something."

Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood trailed behind her with grimaces. "Anything that we can do?" Neville asked her sympathetically.

She shook her head sadly. "It's nothing I can't handle. I'll be fine."

Luna watched as Malfoy continued to rail and yell at the students. "It's a shame, really. Do you know what I think Draco's problem is?"

Daphne raised a dubious eyebrow at her. "Luna, it's not Nargles or Horking – Forking – _Whatever_ – Lumps."

"No, I know that. I think his problem is he's in so many different places right now, that he has no center. No core."

She looked at Luna, confused. "I don't get it." Daphne started walking and motioned for the others to follow her.

Luna explained her point. "He's here at school, probably out of a sense of duty to his family. He's joined, or partially joined, the Death Eaters, possibly because it's what his father wanted. He was ordered to kill Dumbledore because He – Who – Must – Not – Be – Named commanded him to." Luna regarded the group, her eyes unusually protuberant in the stark moonlight. "Draco is losing himself to the people that are forcing him to do bad things, and he's losing himself to his own guilt."

The three teenagers stopped walking and watched Malfoy, continuing flap his arms and yap away at the students.

Daphne shook her head at the Head Boy. "The last thing I need right now is to feel sorry for that pissy little wanker."

Luna turned towards her and smiled. "Why," she said in her eternally dreamy voice, "you already do."

* * *

As soon as she stepped foot in the Great Hall, she staggered back. Her hand clenched at her stomach and forced herself to control her breathing.

Around the Great Hall were posted several dark-cloaked sentries. Their arms were folded with a sharp precision, their wands pressed against their right forearms.

At the center of the room, in front of the long table at which the teachers normally sat to share the meal, stood Amycus and Alecto Carrow. Their eyes scanned the room, sneering at the students, which made their already unattractive visages even more so.

And, between them, tall, dark, and glowering, was Professor—

(_Headmaster now, Greengrass._)

_Headmaster_ Severus Snape.

Daphne felt her blood boil, her temperature rise. A chill ran down her back, through her spine, and shot directly into her arms. She felt her hands ball up into fists, ready to attack someone — with or without provocation.

She shook and quivered where she stood, watching him . . . frozen . . .

Wanting to hex . . . to maim . . . to—

An arm curled around her, and pulled her in toward the Slytherin table. Guiding her to an empty seat, the arm literally pushed her down on the bench.

"Hey!" Daphne looked directly across from her. Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott were staring at her.

She felt someone climbing into the bench to her right. Looking over, she glared at Blaise Zabini.

"What the hell was _that_, Blaise?"

"In case you didn't realize it, Missy, _you _were creating quite a little scene, staring down the Death Eaters that are running our hallowed halls. You were just standing there, hands balled up into fists, ready to get your arse handed to you." Blaise's pointed his finger at Daphne, poking at her in quite a violent fashion.

"Watch it!"

"Well watch _your_-_self_!" Blaise shot back. He leaned into her. "It won't matter one bit if you're Head Girl or you're the best little snake that you can be. The idea is to operate under the radar, _not _draw unnecessary or unwanted attention _to_ you—"

"But—"

"Daphne."

She looked over. Millicent Bulstrode had a very mild expression on her face, one that looked like she was trying to keep a solid, controlled mask to hide any obvious emotion. "I think Blaise is on the right track about this. Stop while you're ahead."

Daphne raised her brow skeptically. "Well, color me impressed. You're picking up on external stimuli rather quickly."

Millicent stated at her, flatly annoyed. "I'd can the sarcasm, _Daphne_. I'm trying to help you." She wriggled her finger, motioning for her to come closer. "Look down the table." Millicent jerked her head to the left and Daphne obeyed.

She flinched when she saw the cold, furious stare of Pansy Parkinson. She wasn't sitting where she normally would be, plastered next to Draco Malfoy's side.

Rather, she and Tracey Davis (_that cowardly bint!_) were sitting by themselves, speaking in hushed tones between themselves, and staring at Daphne with glares that could've stabbed her if they were knives.

"You'll not only have to deal with the new 'staff members'," Millicent began, wriggling her finger as mock quotation marks, "but you're gonna have to deal with Parkinson and Davis in the girls' dormitory. And you didn't hear Parkinson on the train." Millicent shivered as she remembered. "She's even more furious with you than last year."

Daphne looked outraged. "Why the hell is she? Because I'm Head Girl and she's not?" She snorted. "Someone ought to remind her that _she _fought _me_ last year. She threw the first punch. _She_ started that bloody fight — _literally _bloody, I might add — when she was a prefect. Snape was the one who took her privilege away . . . not me!"

"Well, that's part of it," Millicent offered. "But I don't think that's all of it." She looked off to her right as if trying to remember something. "Parkinson kept going off about how you know something. About what happened on the Astronomy Tower that night that the Headmaster died. She freaked herself out as soon as she brought it up. Kept going on about how you don't actually know anything, why the hell did you even bother talking to her, why—"

"_SILENCE_!"

The all-too-familiar voice broke through the cacophony of the students talking amongst themselves. The hall fell quiet. Every single head snapped to the front, towards the source of the voice.

Daphne looked over at Millicent. The girl mouthed "_Later_" to Daphne and turned back to see what announcements Snape was going to make.

He glided forward and stood in the middle of the cavernous room.

"_Brr_-ing the first years _in_."

On cue, the door opened, and the new students flowed into the space, with Hagrid bringing up the rear. There were so many more than last year, that Hagrid, Daphne, and even Malfoy (although he had grumbled and complained the entire time) had to Enlarge the boats as much as possible while still making them float-worthy. When they still needed more transport for the first years, Daphne and Malfoy had simply started tossing them into the Thestral-drawn carriages.

She looked at the nervous, sweating, twitchy faces. Their eyes took heed of the robed figures standing around the room, and of the Carrows.

And, of course, Snape.

"Minerva," Snape called out.

Daphne watched as the old Scottish witch walked with broad steps and fiery eyes toward the center of the hall. She Levitated a tall wooden stool and Sorting Hat, making it stop just to her right.

"_Head_-master," McGonagall drawled out in a disgusted tone, "it would be _best _if you refrained from calling me by my proper name. Such informalities are reserved for only the closest of _comrades_."

Daphne resisted clapping, but she couldn't help smiling at McGonagall's thoroughly dignified, but no less potent, put-down.

Snape, for his part, appeared to have froze, his face an impassable mask towards the snappy comment.

"Very _well_." Clicking his heels together, Snape spun sharply around and strode back toward the table.

Daphne watched as the old, faded chunk of fabric moved as if it were frowning at the Carrows and the dark sentries posted around the perimeter of the school. All unexpected and all unwelcome.

Suddenly, the brim of the hat ripped open, and its song came tumbling out:

_Though you must find me quite a sight,_

_I must sing and sort you right._

_But know it is with heavy heart,_

_That I split you all apart._

_For from within and without,_

_Dark forces are at play._

_And though one side will seek to hurt you, _

_I implore you! Work as one to save the day._

'_Tis not what the Founders had in mind_

_When the four Houses they did find._

_Gryffindor, of courage, heart and soul._

_Never found a task at which they wouldn't toil._

_Ravenclaws, with their brilliant minds._

_Shall spread their knowledge, far and wide._

_Hufflepuffs — the true, the loyal, and the just, _

_Most certainly they are needed, thus._

_Last, but certainly not the least, _

_The cunning and ruthless make the Slytherins proud._

_The true snake runs against the crowd._

_You must see how much in thee _

_Is represented by the Houses four._

_Because the Founders did realize_

_That Hogwarts, itself, could not survive_

_Without Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor._

_And most certain they would say_

_This statement remains to this very day._

_Stand together and stand true._

_It is the only thing that's right to do._

Daphne slouched over, breathing out.

"Hat's laying it on a bit thick this year, innit?

Blaise stared at her. "You're actually listening to it?"

She glowered at him. "What? You're not? You don't give two shits that it just told all of us that we need to join together or risk snuffing it?"

Blaise muttered something inaudible under his breath.

The Hall behind them started clapping for one of the new students who had just been sorted into Hufflepuff.

Daphne ignored it and turned towards the much bigger, taller, and oilier Slytherin girl. "So, you're going to a helluva lot of trouble to warn me about Parkinson and Davis, Bulstrode. What gives?"

Millicent's big face reddened, and Daphne was a bit surprised to notice her increasing anger so clearly expressed. "_First_, Daphne," she said darkly, "call me Millicent. _Second,_" and this time, she blinked for a couple of seconds and turned her eyes downward. "I'm finished with her."

"What? What do you mean 'finished'—"

"I'm done. I'm not going to sit on the sidelines anymore. I'm done with them. And I want in." Her gaze intensified, and suddenly, Daphne felt a little scared of her dorm-mate. She raised her hands up, palms facing the other girl.

"All right. Fine. Simmer down, Bulstrode."

"Bulstrode" gave Daphne a withering look.

"It's _Millicent_. Mil-li-_cent_." She leaned back a bit. "You'd better start showing me some respect."

She could only gape at the much-bigger witch as the sound of more clapping came from the Slytherin table,

"Oh-okay," she stammered. "You're Millicent. You're _Millicent_," She repeated. "But why now?"

She pursed her lips together, as if considering whether or not to say anything. Finally, she looked up at Daphne. "They got to my family."

"_They_? Who's . . . ? What do you mean, 'they'? What did they do?"

"_They _— the Death Eaters. _They_ broke into my aunt's house and _they _tortured her and her family. _They _killed her."

She looked back at her, shocked. "Millicent, I'm . . . I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Millicent shook her head. "She was a Muggle-born. She and my dad both were, which, of course, shocked Gran and Bully."

"Er . . . 'Bully'?"

Millicent looked at Daphne. "Grandpa. We called him 'Bully'."

"Is that short for—?"

"Bulstrode," Millicent cocked her eyebrow. "And you think I'm the thick one?" She shut her eyes tightly. "My mum put some distance between the Muggle-born side of the family and us last year, when things started really going down the drain."

Millicent stopped talking as a particularly enthusiastic round of applause sounded at their table. The girls absent-mindedly clapped along. She blinked for a very long time and shook her head. "I can't help but wonder what _they_ would've done to my father had he still been alive." Opening her eyes back up, Millicent looked squarely at Daphne. "Would they have tortured him too? Would he have been killed by them?"

She found herself at a loss of words. Soundlessly, she moved her lips as if she were a fish gasping for water.

"I used to go to Aunt Ina's house when I was younger," Millicent continued. "She always had these amazing sweets . . . cupcakes, cookies . . ." she drifted off, and Daphne suppressed a snort, trying to keep her expression sympathetic.

(_Ina Bulstrode?!_)

(_Millicent's family certainly has a way with names!_)

She noticed Millicent wipe at her nose, and, to her surprise, Theodore Nott patted her on her shoulder.

(_Oh, for the love of Circe!_)

(_When the bloody _hell _did Nott and Bulstrode hook up?_)

(_E__w__!_)

More clapping surrounded them, interrupting the conversation between the two girls. The waves of applause subsided, and vaguely, she heard Snape speak in the background.

"—And be _aware_ that the Ministry has passed several decrees regarding the language you use here." Snape looked around the Great Hall, his arms crossed and his long, pale fingers patting his upper arms as he spoke, in rhythm with his silky drawl. "Here, at Hogwarts, the walls have _ears._ That goes, too, for the tapestries, the suits of armor, and, most definitely, the classrooms as well. So, beware of everything that passes through your mouths, as it can, and most certainly _will_, be overheard by anyone."

Snape's beady eyes swept over the hall. "Follow my rules. Obey my word. That is _all _I ask as your new headmaster. My goal here is simple — unify the student body to one . . . common . . . _purpose_. To follow in the traditions of our fathers, our grandfathers, and our ancestors. We _all_ must recognize the most fundamental _truth_," he said, rolling the final "r". "The purer the blood, the better the wizard. Now . . ." he drawled, "_repeat_."

He raised his hands, as if to conduct an orchestra.

"The purer the blood," the students repeated, "the better the wizard."

Daphne could tell that the recitation at the other three tables was far less enthusiastic than at her own. Crabbe and Goyle, in particular, seemed to embrace the motto with an unusual zeal.

Even for those two orangutans.

Daphne did take notice of Malfoy as he recited the phrase; to her, he still seemed tired. His mouth moved and spoke along with the rest of the student body, but the more Daphne watched him, it seemed like he couldn't muster the same emotional response as his two cronies—

Just then, Amycus Carrow marched toward the Gryffindor table, his jaw jutted out and his eyes furious. Daphne lifted herself off of her seat, to better see what he was about to do—

Carrow bullied up to Seamus Finnigan, balled up his fist, and punched him twice directly on his ear. The impact rang out through the hall, and several of the students gasped and yelled in shock. The other teachers behind Snape yelled in outrage. McGonagall bolted toward Seamus.

The Gryffindor couldn't wade off the sudden attack. He fell over to the ground, clutching at his head and wincing in pain. Carrow kicked him in the guts.

Daphne gasped and flinched as she heard the impact. She felt her heart and stomach trying to bolt out of her body.

"We didn't see your mouth move, little man!" Amycus Carrow leaned over Seamus and sneered at him. "Next time the Headmaster asks you to do something, you'll do it, you disobedient _shit_!"

"That's enough!"

McGonagall pushed past Carrow, and attended to Seamus.

"Mr. Finnigan," she said, looking at him several times, focusing on his ear, swollen and bloody from the impacts of Carrow's fist. She helped him stand up and muttered something to Seamus. Seamus nodded in response and, still holding his ear, walked out of the hall. McGonagall held her hand out to keep Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley from getting up and shouting in anger on behalf of their friend. McGonagall's rich, rolling brogue interrupted their entreaties—

"_Headmaster_," the Scottish witch said, turning her ire upon Snape. "It doesn't matter that you are in charge here." She walked towards him, in slow, steady steps. "The faculty will _not _tolerate violence against the students." She leaned forward to him, hissing in anger. "You'd better get _your _teachers under control."

Backing up, Minerva McGonagall moved toward the table to take her spot once again, but turned around to Snape just before taking her seat. Snape kept his little, dark eyes on her.

"If the man that I once called a true colleague is anywhere inside that hardened shell, I appeal to his better angels. There is _nothing_ human about attacking the innocent. There is no dignity in hurting our young!" McGonagall lifted her chin up. "You are a _disgrace_ to Dumbledore's legacy! He would be _disgusted _by your actions!"

And with that, McGonagall took her seat at the table.

Even from the distance, Daphne could see Snape breathing rapidly, his jaw flexing. He wanted nothing more than to cut her argument down, as angry as his dark eyes seemed to be. McGonagall had touched a nerve; that as much was certain.

Instead, she watched as Snape apparently composed himself. He turned slowly toward the students.

He clapped twice, his face stony and impassive.

"Let . . . your feast . . . _begin_!"

* * *

The feast was over. As the prefects and Daphne and Draco Malfoy assisted with gathering the younger lot, Ginny Weasley caught up with Neville Longbottom

"That _bastard_! That absolute, _foul _bastard!" Ginny hissed irately.

"Ginny!" Neville put his hand over her mouth. "Not here. If they hear you—"

"Oh, I should let them! They can come after me. I don't care! I'll bloody fight them!"

Neville shushed her. "Seriously, Ginny. Calm down, all right?"

Ginny shut her eyes really tight. "Sorry . . . this is just making my blood boil." She turned to her left, finding Snape talking with the Carrows and the other Death Eaters that had been standing around the room.

Snape had beckoned the sentries over. They gathered in rows, kneeling before the new Headmaster. He spoke to them in what Ginny thought must have been some commanding, authoritative tone. With a nod, the sentries bowed their heads, and stood up, clicking their heels as they spun around and walked out of the Great Hall.

Ginny hissed in disgust. "I hate this!" She turned back toward Neville. "Classes haven't even started yet, and I'm already feeling oppressed."

Neville nodded in agreement. "I agree. But there's a time and place for everything. If you get yourself hexed now, or you say something to get your family in trouble, then you _won't _be able to fight."

Ginny exhaled in a shaky breath. "Yeah. Yeah, all right, Nev." She looked down at the ground. "I just want to make my family proud." She turned her eyes up to him. "I want to make Harry, Ron and Hermione proud to know me."

Neville gave her a sweet smile.

Ginny grinned back mischievously. "I also want to show 'em I can kick Death Eater arse twelve different ways to Sunday. They'll regret not taking me with them!"

Neville merely smirked and shook his head. "Gin, has anyone ever told you that you could be tougher?"

She let herself laugh as she playfully swatted him in the gut. "C'mon. Let's get upstairs." She beckoned toward the entrance hall with her head. Together, Neville and Ginny ventured out toward the Grand Staircase.

Almost immediately, they saw several other Gryffindor students, grouped just to the right of the first row of steps.

Lavender was still clearly shaken that Seamus had been so physically and publicly abused by the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "I'm going to the Hospital Ward. And I don't care if it's after curfew!"

"And risk getting caught and beat up yourself?" Parvati whispered, pleading with her best friend. "Lavender, you can't just wander around the castle willy-nilly anymore. Not with these creeps here."

All the Gryffindors shook their heads. Just as Neville was about to open his mouth to speak, McGonagall strode over to them, walking with strong, purposeful steps.

"Good evening, students." Her tone was direct but more pinched and severe than usual. "Before you go and _venture out_," she said, lowering her head and giving Lavender Brown a piercing stare, "to find out any news, I must have a word with Mister Longbottom and Miss Patil. Please come see me in my office in ten minutes. Miss Brown, come with them as well, and they can escort you to where you need to go. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am," came Neville, Parvati, and Lavender's simultaneous replies.

"Thank you." The professor strode up the steps, following the massive blob of younger students heading toward their respective houses.

"What do you think that's about?" Parvati asked. "We didn't do anything that would get us in trouble—"

"And why would you two need to escort me?" Lavender asked, her face a mess of confusion and anger about what had just happened with Seamus.

Neville shrugged. "Maybe she just needs to speak to us about something. I don't think any of us did a thing that would warrant point deduction or detention. Much less getting punched or kicked." His eyes traveled back to the Great Hall.

"This isn't fair," Neville said, shaking his head. "If this is any indication of how the rest of the year's gonna be, with the Carrows teaching, we'll need a _lot _more than just paper or words to fight them." He shivered. "We've got to be tough."

"When you say, 'tough' Nev, what do you mean?" Parvati asked. Lavender had turned her face, still angry and outraged, to look at Neville, waiting to hear what he had to say.

Neville's eyes roamed over to the doors of the Great Hall, though which Snape, the Carrows, and the dark-robed Death Eaters were now streaming out of. Ginny was shocked; she had never seen such poison or fury pouring forth from Neville's stare.

"Nev?" she asked him, wanting to get his attention. He continued looking at the Death Eaters as they exited from the castle, his hands in his pockets.

Just behind her, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Luna Lovegood and Anthony Goldstein huddled around the Gryffindors.

"So, after that lovely display in there," Michael nudged his head toward the emptying hall, "any of you got ideas about how we're gonna get through the next few months?"

Neville didn't answer, but his brow creased as he withdrew his hand from his pocket.

A gleam of something caught Ginny's eye; Neville held up his D.A. Galleon. She knew that he always carried it with him, but she didn't know exactly why. He may have kept it with him because it reminded him of doing something to stand against the tyranny of Dolores Umbridge and the Ministry in her fourth year. Perhaps it was because he felt like it brought him luck, a talisman of good fortune that aided him in his courageous stand just a few months ago in the Astronomy Tower.

Whatever reason it was, that Galleon meant the world to Neville Longbottom. And now he regarded it with a look of determination and turned to face the group as a whole. The sound of his voice gave Ginny goose bumps; she had never heard him sound so strong or so bold.

"Tell whomever you trust," Neville began, "everyone you remember, all the students who were originally with us two years ago—"

A smile slowly emerged on his face. He met Ginny's eyes, and slowly, she found herself returning his smile. And the more she watched him, the more Neville looked assured, positively resolved in his decision.

"Tell them Saturday, the Room of Requirement at eight o'clock in the evening." Neville's smile grew even more confident. "Tell them to think: '_I need a room for a secret defense club meeting._'

He regarded each and every person surrounding him.

"Tell them Dumbledore's Army is back in business."


	19. Chapter 18: News and New Blood

**A/N: **Daphne's blackmail scheme on Blaise Zabini and Eddie Carmichael is detailed in Chapter 12: A Snake Cornered in ** __****Daphne Greengrass and the 6**_**th**__** Year From Hell**_. Additionally, Daphne first encounters the tiara mentioned in this chapter in Chapter 24: The Uncaring Snake of the same story.

I own nothing. Thanks to stella8h8chang for the beta-read and clarification points. And much love to all my reviewers and readers out there who have been loyally following what I'll now call "The Hell-verse". It's been a blast to write.

* * *

**Chapter 18: News and New Blood **

"_**MINISTRY BREAKOUT! LARGEST MUGGLE-BORN ROUNDUP RESCUED AS REBELS INFILTRATE THICKNESSE'S INNER SANCTUM—**_"

It was exactly what Ginny needed to see, particularly after the crap she had endured over the past couple of days. She read the headline one more time, savoring it and letting her eyes and brain soak it all in before she subjected herself to another day of abuse.

The newest teachers at Hogwarts weren't simply cruel; their apparent desire to hurt many of the students was sadistic. It made Ginny's guts squirm with nausea when she realized that the male Carrow spoke of the pain caused by the Cruciatus Curse as "intoxicating". The leer on his face when he described the class as, "The Dark Arts, as there will be no Defense lessons here," could only be described as glee.

A very _perverse_ glee.

Later that day, many of the other Gryffindors had approached her in the Common Room, wanting nothing more than to talk about what they had just witnessed in their now-mandatory Muggle Studies courses, as taught by Alecto Carrow.

Ginny hadn't forgotten Snape's ominous words from the day before. She had cast the Muffliato Charm to ensure their privacy.

"It's madness, Ginny! The things she was saying about Muggles."

"They're not that bloodthirsty! No Muggles I know want to kill others like savages!"

"—And what the hell does she mean? When she says that they're 'restoring the _natural order_'?"

Now, on the second day of classes, Ginny sat at breakfast, her face immersed in her copy of that day's _The Quibbler_, unable to stop reading, unwilling to stop smiling. Around her, the students' whispers were increasing in volume:

"But the article didn't say who it was that actually _broke_ into the Ministry."

"Oh come on! Don't tell me you _don't_ think it was Harry Potter—"

"Whatever. What about all that shite about him in the Prophet, eh? What about all that stuff in Skeeter's book? Harry and Dumbledore's 'special relationship'? Harry involved with Dumbledore's death—?"

Ginny looked up and scowled. It was a couple of fifth year Ravenclaws, if she remembered correctly.

Still holding _The Quibbler _with one hand and her face still buried in the paper, Ginny Levitated a plate of scrambled eggs. With a flick of her wrist, she dumped it on the head of the boy who had brought up Harry and Dumbledore.

"_Oi_! What the eff—"

Barely looking up, Ginny saw Michael Corner and Terry Boot as they chortled and slapped each other's hands; they pointed and laughed at the unfortunate sod who had just gotten egged. Anthony Goldstein looked at his friends, and smirked.

"Cretins," Ginny heard him mutter.

Ginny grinned and nodded at Michael, who returned the gestures.

"Anything good?"

Ginny smiled as Neville Longbottom took a seat next to her. Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil all sat in front of them. She folded her paper over, showing all the older Gryffindors the moving picture of the chaos following the break-in at the Ministry.

She grinned even wider when she spotted the shiny and new prefect badges pinned onto Neville and Parvati's robes.

"Those look good on y' two. I know I've already said it, but congratulations!" She grinned at them.

Neville looked down at badge, but he blushed, as did Parvati. "Thanks, Ginny," he said. "It's really weird, though. Me, a prefect . . . isn't it?"

"Neville! You're kidding, right?" Parvati just stared at him. "You _deserve _it." Lavender and Seamus both nodded vigorously.

"Listen to Parvati, Nev." Ginny said, touching his arm. "Think about what you've accomplished the last two years." She gave him a very pointed look and smiled at him.

Neville blushed. "Th-thanks, Gin."

"No problem. Plus, the two of you are the best choices to carry on prefect duties, especially—" Ginny paused and turned her eyes to the front of the hall, "with our newest staff members and Headmaster _Dingle-berry_ running things!"

Neville couldn't help but snort. "Seriously, Ginny. You sound like Daphne."

She rolled her eyes and grinned. "I guess she's rubbing off of me." She shook her head and the newspaper she had been looking through ruffled in the air.

"So this is what all the buzz's about, huh?" Seamus pointed at the article that was open in front of him, Lavender and Parvati.

Ginny nodded. "_The Quibbler's _reporting the biggest evacuation of Muggle-borns from the Ministry since the coup. Apparently, the individuals involved masqueraded as—" Ginny leaned over and squinted as she read the article upside-down, 'Mafalda Hopkirk, Reggie Cattermole, and Albert Runcorn.'" Ginny sat up and smiled at Neville and the other Gryffindors. "So, what do we reckon?

Neville grinned as she continued reading the article. "The 'rebels' really got to Umbridge." He gestured at a picture of Dolores Umbridge, clearly red-faced and spitting at a reporter, her jowls flopping about her as she hopped up and down.

Ginny sniggered. "That warms my heart!" She looked over at the article again, and her face fell. "Although, there's nothing about this Muggle-born registration that warms any part of me. It's crazy."

Neville's face had a similar expression. "It can only get worse, can't it? I mean it feels like all of this is escalating, getting worse and worse."

The teenagers fell into a sober silence; the only things that seemed inevitable at this point were more persecution of Muggle-borns, and more violence against Muggles.

And always, the specter of death, waiting for a battle that could not be avoided, a war that appeared to be inevitable.

Looking for — or simply needing — a distraction from her thoughts, Ginny's eyes traveled over to the door of the Great Hall just in time to see Daphne Greengrass walk into the Great Hall. The two girls gave each other a couple of inconspicuous nods and Daphne made her way over to the Slytherin table, taking a seat next to Blaise Zabini. Ginny watched as she waved bashfully to Michael Corner; he looked back at her with a rather affectionate smile.

As happy as Ginny felt for Daphne and Michael, she just couldn't help feeling an odd sensation of loss at the pit of her guts. Witnessing the tiny moments of Daphne and Michael's re-burgeoning relationship made Ginny miss Harry so much.

(_Get over it, Ginevra!_)

(_Just be happy for them, and quit with the pity party!_)

Ginny snapped herself out of her reveries and turned back to her housemates.

"So, I've got some theories about who was masquerading as those individuals," she said, opening up _The Quibbler_ again.

A smile appeared on Neville's face. "We were just talking about that."

"So, you both think that they're doing okay then?" Lavender Brown leaned forward.

"Er . . ." Ginny bit her lip. She realized she had spoken far too quickly, not thinking about the consequences of revealing too much information. She didn't want to give away too much about what she suspected was going on with Harry and Hermione, nor did she want to advertise the extent of Ron's involvement with it. Doing so could put her family in jeopardy.

"I do suspect it _is_ Harry. If Hermione's with him, then she certainly was there too."

"But there were _three_ people, Ginny," Lavender said, pointing at the article. "And we know that Ron, Harry and Hermione were as thick as thieves for the past six years. There's no way you can convince me that he wasn't with them!"

"Ron's at home with spattergroit, Lav."

She gasped in response, as did Parvati. "Oh . . . are you serious, Gin?"

(_Remember — some lies are okay to tell._)

Ginny nodded. "That's why he's not coming back to school this year. Not because he's with them."

(_But they're in the DA . . . they can be trusted. Or, at least, they can be trusted with the consequences should the truth come out . . ._)

(_Maybe start there?_)

She took a breath and she quickly scanned the Great Hall, making sure it was Carrow-free and Snape-free. Ginny then leaned forward and beckoned the others closer. "Besides, _if _Ron were with Harry and Hermione," she whispered, "my whole family would be thrown into Azkaban or killed on the spot. They'd be used to trap Harry and Hermione and Ron and . . . any Muggle-born evacuation plans that are currently taking place would most certainly be thrown into jeopardy." She swallowed. "So, you see? Ron _can't _be with them, or else everything would go to shit!"

Ginny breathed out in relief as she witnessed Lavender's face change from confusion to total awareness. She nodded. "I understand perfectly."

"So do I." Parvati said slowly and quietly.

"Well," Seamus subtly winked at Ginny, "give Ron _my_ wishes for a speedy recovery, then!" However, he continued to peer at Ginny for a few moments; he looked like he needed to say something.

Taking his time, Seamus glanced down at the table, but he spoke to Ginny. "So yer family's very involved with the evacuation?"

"They are, Seamus."

She watched as he swallowed and bit his lip. "Has there been any word about Dean?"

Ginny brought her hand up to stifle her expression of shock; in all the upheavals over the past couple of weeks and once they had gotten to Hogwarts, she hadn't even asked about what was going on with Dean Thomas.

"Seamus, we haven't heard anything.

His face fell and he shook his head. Ginny had never seen such a sad expression cross the Irish lad's face and she felt a lead weight fall into her own stomach. Her relationship with Dean might not have ended well last year, but Ginny was never one to just turn her feelings off and on like a light switch. There was a big part of her that continued to care about Dean's whereabouts and well-being.

Seamus spoke softly. "He went on the run a few weeks ago, right after the Ministry fell." He swallowed and averted his eyes. Ginny sucked in a sob; Seamus' eyes had just begun to barely water. "Haven't heard hide nor hair from him."

Rubbing his nose vigorously, Seamus' small sniff was audible only to the immediate group.

Lavender reached over, taking his hand into one of her own. "Shay," she said in a sweet voice, "Don't think of the worst. He's still okay. I'm sure of it."

Seamus looked at her; Ginny noticed his face getting stormier and stormier. "Lav . . . love," he said, while jumping off the bench. "It's nice that yer comforting me, but don't keep telling me everything's gonna be all right when you bloody well _don't_ _know_!"

And, with that, Seamus turned sharply and walked out of the Great Hall. All the eyes of the group followed him as he walked out.

Ginny was horrified. "Lavender, I'm sorry—"

"No, don't be," she shook her head absent-mindedly and stood up. "Parvati, I'm going to find him."

Parvati nodded. Lavender had already turned and started walking out of the Great Hall.

"Is everything gonna be all right?"

Parvati gave Ginny a sad look. "It will . . . it's just, we should've said something to all of you. Dean's disappearance has been really hard on Seamus. And Lavender been really patient with him. She tries to be supportive, but . . ." Parvati shook her head, "They'll go find a broom closet or something later and it'll work out."

Ginny sighed and wiped her face with her hand.

(_Well, crap!_)

(_There goes all hope I had for a good day . . ._)

* * *

"Blaise—?"

"_Piss _off!"

"Now, that's not very nice, Blaise."

"Here," Blaise countered, holding up his fingers in a very obscene manner, "that nice enough for you?"

Daphne frowned, crossed her arms, and shook her head.

Daphne had brought Blaise up to the seventh floor to the Room of Requirement for, as she had described to him, "A conversation you won't want to miss!"

And after she had cast a couple of charms to ensure their privacy from prying ears, and after she had made her proposal to her Slytherin friend, he had stared at her, gaping in disbelief for a few minutes . . . and then had laid into her with a stream of profanities and common language that Daphne had to tease him—

"You sound like a Weasley!"

Now, Blaise paced back and forth in front of Daphne, every once in a while kicking a piece of rubbish that some student or teacher or other individual had hidden away in the Room at some point in time long since past.

And while he kicked away at a crate that made an odd jingle-jangle noise every time his foot touched it, Daphne turned and found a very familiar object, resting on top of a bust of an ugly, old warlock.

It was the tiara, old, tarnished and connected to a dirty wig, that Daphne had recognized coming across last winter, when she and Colin Creevey had come to this very room to check on their pictures that they had used to blackmail Blaise and Eddie.

She had forgotten all about it since she had found it back in February. But now that she had accidentally happened upon it again, Daphne decided to take a closer look. She picked up the object and held it in her hand. She looked at the unassuming bauble, and realized that her initial assumptions about the tiara had been all wrong.

It wasn't some cheap piece of costume jewelry. It was old, and something about feeling it, picking it up and holding it in her hands made Daphne realize that it was made from something quite valuable.

(_Such a shame that somebody left this old thing in here to rot._)

However, the longer she held it in her hands, the colder and . . . _icier _it felt. And Daphne thought she was going crazy; she thought she felt a small pulse throbbing inside of it. It felt as if the diadem was moving against her palm.

Daphne would've been repulsed by it, but, for some odd reason, she was having a hard time putting it back on the sculpture.

"I hate you, you know."

Daphne turned back to Blaise and she ditched the tiara into the open cabinet upon which the bust of the ugly warlock rested. She promptly shut the door and reoriented herself with where they had left off in their conversation.

She sighed. "I figured."

Blaise exhaled in frustration, and gave one last, mighty kick. He plopped down on some shelving just behind him. "Okay, give it to me again."

She rolled her eyes and walked over to him. "All right. I'm proposing, _Blaise_, my darling, dearest Blaise—"

He stuck his tongue out at her.

"I'm offering to return those pictures of you and Eddie that I used against you last year, as well as the money you gave me to keep it a secret—"

"You _blackmailed _me!"

"Tomato, to-_mah-_toe," Daphne blithely waved her hand. "I'll give all of that back to you once you join the DA and help us out with our fun little activities."

"_And_?" Blaise swirled his hand around impatiently.

"Well, I'm just telling you my opinion about the other thing." Daphne shook her head rapidly. "It's not my fault you think it's the end of the world or something."

Blaise hissed. "You're _forcing _me to tell everyone — all your little idiot friends!"

Daphne gave him a pitying look. "All I said was, if you truly want to show your commitment to our cause, you should think about opening up," she circled her hands in front of her, emphasizing her words, "to the others. Let them know _exactly_ what you've got to lose by letting Vol—" she caught herself before completing _his _name, "You-Know-Who win. Otherwise," she said, with a small shrug and exaggerated expression of uncertainty, "they're not gonna trust you."

Blaise just stared at Daphne. "But look at you! They trusted you!" He threw his hand up, gesturing toward her.

"Not all of them did, and it took well over a year to even get Ron to trust me. And that was after I practically lived with his family last year."

Blaise slumped over and shook his head. Snorting twice, he rubbed at his temples. "Isn't there another way? Can't you just, I don't know . . . _vouch _for me or something?"

"Blaise, I don't think so. I think that all of us need to show our hands. If we're gonna be working together against the Death Eaters currently employed here at Hogwarts and breaking the law while we do so, then we need to be upfront and honest with each other too." Daphne cocked her head and shot Blaise a smile one could only describe as condescending. "Come on. It won't be so bad."

He growled at her.

"Aw! Puppy mad?" She patted his shoulder and stuck out her bottom lip.

"Can the attitude!" Blaise shook her off, and walked from her a distance.

"Okay, okay . . . I'm sorry. I laid it on a bit thick. But, Blaise," Daphne's voice evened out, and she approached him, now with a truly serious expression. "They barely had any notions about me when I joined up with them in fifth year. All they knew was that I was a sullen, sarcastic . . . maybe a bit _slaggy_ . . . Slytherin girl who did well in classes. Honestly, look at yourself."

Blaise looked at Daphne, his expression softening. He cocked an eyebrow. "What's your point?"

"You _are_ the physical embodiment of everything people think is wrong with Slytherin." Daphne waved her hand up and down, going the length of Blaise's upper body. "Don't believe me? Let me lay it out for you. One," she held up her finger, "you've been one of the most antagonistic pure-bloods in all of Hogwarts. Two," she held up another finger, "you've never minced words — _publicly _— that you feel pure-bloods are the top dogs and that you hate Muggle-borns—"

"You know I don't think like that anymore! _You_ _know_!"

"But they don't, Blaise. " Daphne's finger stabbed the air, pointing to the door leading out of the Room, "And they've got no reason to think that you've stopped feeling like that, or that you have your own reasons to fight against the Ministry. If you tell them, Blaise, it'll make it that much easier for them to trust you. It'll help them understand you."

Blaise shook his head. "You don't know that. You don't know that they'll accept me." He chewed on his lower lip and put his hands on his hips. "It'd be one thing if I were just another half-blood Slytherin, like Bulstrode or even Davis. I'm not. I'm with another wizard — _Eddie_ _Carmichael_ of all people! What makes you think _all _of your gang's going to accept that?"

Daphne realized she hadn't quite thought about that. So focused had she been about recruiting Blaise to the cause, that she had forgotten that wizarding views regarding homosexuality might be as narrow-minded as the Death Eater's views about Muggle-borns.

What was worse, it was very likely that many of the members of Dumbledore's Army might not accept Blaise because of that very fact.

_And . . . _there was the fact that he was a very unlikable Slytherin.

Daphne whistled out a breath, and clicked her tongue. She knew exactly what she wanted to say, but she wanted to find a way to say it.

Pulling in her lips, Daphne lifted her eyes towards Blaise. She blinked very slowly. "Then change their minds."

Blaise lifted his eyebrow.

"Change their minds, Blaise. You've actually been an okay friend to me this past year—"

"You _forced_ me!"

"No. No, I never said that you had to hang out with me, or be nice to me, or be my friend." Daphne spoke to him in a very direct manner. "I only asked for your protection. You were nice to me last year — healing me when Pansy broke my nose, sitting at meals with me when the whole House was shunning me, giving me Eddie's flat number so I'd have a place to go if I needed it." Daphne stood close to Blaise now; she looked up at him. Blaise forced himself to _not _look at her.

So, she continued talking.

"When you quit being an arse, and you let yourself be _you_, you're a nice bloke. Let them see that about you. Let them see why Eddie's completely _barmy _over you." Daphne looked at him with kind eyes; she did notice his body relaxing, even though he gave her no sign of a smile. "Can you be the _nice_ Blaise, the one that doesn't bite?"

He shrugged in a hopeless manner. "I have to lure them in with my sparkling personality before I tell them, then?"

Daphne sighed. "Or, you can tell them, and be nice all the same." She swallowed. "I really don't like feeling like I'm backing you into a corner—"

(_That's Carmichael's job, innit?_)

She amazed herself with her ability to suppress a snort. "But, I'd recommend that you tell them about yourself, and treat them with respect. Even if they treat you like scum. Just be nice to them."

Blaise's brow darkened. "I'm not going to let them run all over me. If they treat me like crap—"

"Then deal with them, Blaise. But deal with them in a way that you'll still feel good about yourself in the morning."

Blaise looked off into the distance, just to the left of Daphne's head. "Can . . . can I make a decision . . ." his head fell. Daphne watched as he bothered and worried his fingertips. "Can I decide _on _Saturday? About whether to tell them?"

Daphne regarded him, her eyes soft and understanding. "Absolutely. But first," she said and held up a finger. She walked toward a very familiar cabinet and pulled away a stack of books and boxes that hid it from view. Without a word, Daphne opened the dark wooden door.

She walked slowly back toward Blaise, and held out a cream-colored envelope, filled with some documents.

"Here. Take 'em."

Blaise looked at the envelope, then looked back up at her.

"You're . . . you're _not_ kidding?"

Daphne shook her head. "Check them. I told you we only made about five copies of each picture. Ten different pictures. So, fifty in all. And they're all there."

She spoke without sarcasm, and the straightforward tone that she used seemed to affect Blaise. He slowly reached out for the envelope, and grasped it carefully. Never taking his eyes off of her, Blaise took the package from Daphne's hand.

And without another word, he walked away.

* * *

Friday.

It was Friday evening, and she had to do it.

After having put away as much of her roast chicken and potatoes and treacle tart as she could manage, Daphne Greengrass stood along with Draco Malfoy, Head Boy (_more like Head Git!_) and made her way toward the Headmaster's office for their first meeting with Snape.

Daphne had heard of silences so thick, they could be cut with a knife. It was more than just a little true for this particular excursion.

Daphne felt like a ton of hippogriff dung had settled between her and the blond idiot.

Malfoy, for his part, seemed to have a permanently disgusted sneer stuck to his ratty visage. He kept his eyes trained forward, never looking at her. Daphne, however, continued her observations of Malfoy's face; he still didn't look like he was getting any sleep, and the grey bags under his eyes seemed to be more pronounced than ever before.

They arrived at the gargoyle statue marking the entrance to the Headmaster's office. Daphne stood back as Malfoy approached it first; she felt a sickening feeling as she realized that Snape now inhabited the sanctuary of the man he had killed only a few months earlier.

(_Does he sleep at night?_)

(_How can he not think of that night? How can he take a life of a friend and colleague and not dream about it every minute of every day?_)

(_How does Snape live with himself—_)

(_Hell, I can't even live with myself for having idolized _him _for all those years . . ._)

"Greengrass, are you going to stand there like a mute idiot, or are you going to say the damn password?"

Daphne's head snapped around. She had been standing there for several minutes in silent disgust, staring at the statue as she thought of the man who currently occupied the room. She remembered that she had been the one who had received the note from Snape earlier that day, reminding both her and Malfoy of the meeting and telling her . . .

"_And, just so you know, my mother's maiden name was Eileen Prince._"

At first she had been mystified by the statement, and had even thought about asking Malfoy, since his daddy and Snape seemed to be the _best _of Death Eater-y friends, why Snape had chosen to reveal such a small bit of personal information. It had taken her only a couple of minutes to realize that Snape had just told her what the password to his office was.

She paused, cleared her throat, and, glaring at Malfoy, she enunciated clearly: "_Eileen Prince_!"

The statute swirled, and the stone grinded and crunched. Daphne's eyes widened as the stairs to the Headmaster's office appeared in full view.

Malfoy didn't even wait for her to go first; he pushed her roughly aside and stomped up the steps. Daphne suppressed a growl and followed him, stopping directly in front of the door.

Malfoy had his fist raised, but stopped just before he knocked on the door.

For the first time since knowing the blond Death-Eater-In-Training, Daphne could actually see stark, naked fear written all over his face.

She felt herself about to say, "Draco—" to get him to snap out of his trance, when the door opened.

A tall, sallow-skinned man with dark, beady eyes and greasy hair stepped into the doorframe.

"_Well_," Snape drawled, "I am glad I chose two students who could find my office with such a minimal amount of effort." He spoke thick and lazily to the pair of students, his face bearing one of the most minimal expressions possible. With his right hand, he gestured toward the interior of the office. "Come _in_, but _make sure _that you have properly cleaned the soles of your shoes." Snape walked back inside the room. "It will not do have dirt and other _effluvia_ tracked in from the devil . . . knows . . . where."

He floated over to the desk in the middle of the lower level of the office. Positioning himself behind it, he turned with his arms crossed, to face Daphne and Malfoy, who now stood in front of him, side–by–side.

"Wonderful," Snape said, without a trace of amusement or enthusiasm. "Now . . . _sit_."

Two chairs appeared out of nowhere. The seat of Daphne's chair hit her behind the knees rather roughly, causing her to stumble into a sitting position in the piece of furniture. Just out of the corner of her eye, she could see Malfoy doing the same thing.

Daphne took this opportunity to look around the office. Whatever dark and evil things she had been expecting — cauldrons filled with some poisonous green concoction, dead creatures hung from anywhere a rope could be tied, or other dangerous objects — she did not get.

The place seemed _normal_. Almost boring.

Particularly for the man who was essentially Voldemort's second–in–command.

The cabinets were all closed, and Daphne thought she could hear the whirring and whizzing around of some odd object or another behind the doors. The paintings of the old headmasters remained on the walls, but most of the occupants were either sleeping or had vacated the canvas. Only one, a very haughty, 'turn–of–the–century'–looking fellow whom Daphne recognized as Phineas Nigellus, the worst Headmaster in the history of Hogwarts, still remained, awake and filing his fingernails on his suit.

And that's when Daphne noticed, with a tightness in her chest, the picture just below Nigellus' portrait. With a gasp of shock, with water pooling in her eyes, she got up out of her chair and walked over to it.

The old wizard in the portrait was sleeping soundly, his spectacles sliding to the end of his very long nose. His long red and purple robes fell about his form as he snored quietly, his elegant fingers folded in front of his chest. Despite his slouching and slumbering form, it was obvious he was a wizard of great height and great knowledge.

Daphne stood transfixed, mesmerized with the sleeping figure. She reached out to the portrait with a trembling hand and chin.

"Pr- . . . professor?" she whispered. "D- . . . Dumbledore?"

She thought for a brief moment that the old man's eyes flickered as she said his name, and that she could see his sparkling blue eyes.

"Miss – _Greengrass_."

Daphne spun around. Snape stood stock still, his arms folded, and Daphne could hear his foot tapping on the cold stone floor. Draco Malfoy slouched lazily in his seat, huffing impatiently.

Snape swept his hand back to the chair that Daphne had just vacated. "We have a great many things to discuss to-night, _Miss_ Greengrass."

Daphne nodded slowly. Wiping her eyes, she shook her head and composed herself as she made her way back to her seat.

* * *

**A/N: **Next -- the first meeting of Dumbledore's Army . . .

* * *


	20. Chapter 19: Tension Within the Ranks

**A/N: **This is the second draft of this chapter, and, boy . . . talk about a pain to figure out how to approach this meeting. I must thank stella8h8chang profusely for her awesome read-through of both versions (the crap one and this one!). I hope you like this; I'm very happy with how this one came out.

The Zacharias Smith discussion was inspired by the awesome writings of cesaretech on LJ and "The Heir of Hufflepuff" series. Which made me realize that I like Zacharias Smith, the big prat.

Rated T for language. I own nothing.

* * *

**Chapter 19: Tension Within the Ranks**

"Um, right. Okay." Neville clapped and rubbed his hands together addressing all the students who were currently present in the Room of Requirement. It was eight o'clock Saturday night and the first meeting of Dumbledore's Army was just getting underway.

"I . . . well, I'm not really sure where to begin." He scratched his head.

"Neville, you called the meeting." Michael Corner spoke up. "It's your show."

A general chorus of assents floated around the room.

Neville grinned, albeit shakily, but he cleared his throat. "Okay, but I'm no Harry Potter or anything—"

"Nope! You're Neville Longbottom!"

He blushed as Hannah Abbott pumped her fist in the air, encouraging him to continue. "Right . . . well, hold on." He looked at Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan. "We're missing people. Ones that are here at Hogwarts--"

Susan Bones nodded, an annoyed look on her face. "It's Zacharias. He's, er . . . being stubborn."

Ginny snorted and rolled her eyes. "Figures."

"He's under a lot of pressure," Ernie said with an indignant tone. "I know not everyone here likes him—"

There was general assenting to this particular observation about Zacharias Smith, who was almost universally regarded as a prat. Ernie rolled his eyes.

"—_But_," he huffed, "his father's putting a lot of pressure on him, to keep his nose clean. To stay out of trouble." Ernie shook his head.

"Ernie," Terry Boot interrupted, "exactly how much trouble can Smith get into? He's the bloody heir to Hepzibah Smith _and_ a direct ancestor to Helga Hufflepuff!"

Ernie shrugged. "I- . . . I don't know. It's his parents that are hounding him. I don't agree with it, but it's his decision. His call." He shook his head in resignation. "It's not mine. And, I don't want to speak for the rest of us," he pointed at Hannah, Susan and himself, "but _I _don't like what's going on here at Hogwarts. I don't like it one bit!"

Neville lifted his brow and nodded. "It _is_ your decision, Ernie." He looked around the room. "All of us do have a choice, right? And I wanted to bring all of you together because," he gestured to Seamus, "as you can probably figure out, this year's not going to be a good one. We've already seen how Amycus Carrow's willing to treat people who don't fall in line with him."

Seamus raised his hand high in the air. "My ear can attest to that one, personally!"

The others giggled and snorted.

"And we've all seen those lesson plans of the Carrows, er . . . especially the one in Muggle Studies."

"She's vile and ignorant," Anthony interrupted, "Muggles haven't _ever _engaged in pervasive mass wizard slaughtering! And no, Padma . . . the Salem Witch Trials of 1692 don't count." He shot Padma Patil a pointed look, silencing her attempt at clarification. "They _don't_ treat us like pigs, nor do they _act_ like pigs! There's plenty of documentation prior to the Statute of Wizarding Secrecy of 1692 that Muggles and wizards can and have co-existed peacefully together." He shrugged. "There has to be _context_ to some of this information! But Alecto? She's an absolute disgrace to academia!"

"Hear, hear!" Ernie pounded his palm on the floor. "Unfortunately _both _Carrows are here, and they're spreading that _filth_ . . . that hogswallop, and the Ministry approves it! We can't do anything about it!"

"Well, anything _legal_."

Everyone turned back to Neville Longbottom. Ginny noticed a sly grin winding its way across his face. "What I mean is that the Ministry's put a lot of measures in place that are not all that agreeable with me. And," he gestured around the room, "we may need to think outside the box on this one. Like I said before, it's your choice. You can stay, or if you feel squeamish about this, you can leave."

Ginny smiled at Neville, her eyes wide with surprise at his newly authoritative tone. She barely noticed that his fingers and hand were trembling slightly as he pointed to the door.

Here was Neville, turning into the very leader that Dumbledore's Army needed in Harry's absence.

She looked around the room, seeing whether or not there were any students who weren't willing to participate in this project. No one moved. Everyone stayed right where they were seated.

Neville turned toward Daphne and held his hand out to her. "Well, Daphne?" She stepped forward a bit, and coughed. She was clearly nervous, as the parchment she was holding in her hand was shaking furiously.

"Er . . . okay th-then," she started, her voice shaking.

"Whoo-hoo!" Michael Corner said quietly, with a small fist pump in the air. He winked at her encouragingly, and Ginny saw Daphne's face redden as she smiled at Michael's reassurance.

"So, I've actually done quite a bit of work on this." She started speaking quietly, far quieter than Ginny had ever known her to be. "And the stuff that the Ministry drew on to create all that anti-Muggle-born propaganda — you all know what I'm talking about, right?"

The group nodded.

"There're the anti-Muggle-born pamphlets, and the Minister's public addresses, calling on half-bloods and pure-bloods to 'inform'," she mimed quotation marks with her fingers, "the Ministry about Muggle-borns that might be in hiding. They're justifying the round-up on public health and safety concerns."

"They're calling them 'non-magical persons illegally obtaining and carrying wands'." Susan Bones shook her head. "I wish Auntie Amelia could've been here to see this," she looked around the room. "She'd have been utterly sick about it!"

Daphne nodded, as did the others. "And it provides their justification to round up Muggle-borns too." She swallowed. "To throw them into Azkaban. Or . . . worse."

The comment was met with silence from the room. She continued to speak.

"The Ministry bases all of these points on the research done by Phillip Marcus Stallsworth, the so-called 'Healer'. Stallsworth's research seemed to prove all these claims, and they've stood for so long without any publicized opposition because Stallsworth came from an esteemed line of Healers. Stallsworth had money. Stallsworth had power. He had the ear of the wizarding world's leaders."

"Wasn't his research really popular in the early and middle parts of this century?" Padma Patil pressed a finger to her lips, thinking through something. "It seemed to coincide with Grindelwald's rise to power and then again during the first war?"

Daphne nodded. "It was used as justify anti-Muggle-born crimes during both those times." She shrugged. "No one seemed to question it, right? None of you can think of _any_ Healer or Sanguigeneticist that has spoken out against Stallsworth, can you?"

Daphne looked about the room; the others shook their heads.

"S'pose the world was too busy trying to rebuild all the damage from the wars?" Michael piped up.

Anthony nodded at his friend. "Or 'The Healer's' ideas had taken such a strong hold on the society already that it was impossible for anyone to believe other Healers with different theories."

Daphne shrugged. "Whatever happened, his views flirted between becoming the accepted wisdom of the day, or something that you don't discuss in polite company, but you talk about behind closed doors." She gestured to the two Ravenclaws. "So either's possible. But, the most frustrating part? _All _of that research refuting him? _Right here_!" She pointed to the floor. "At Hogwarts. But no one's been willing to actually look through the Parchment Archive to find them. "And so, I- . . ." she breathed out nervously, "I wanted to create a place where this research could be made public."

"What do you mean?" Hannah Abbott gave Daphne a very curious look, and a smile that seemed a bit apologetic. "We can't really talk about something like that openly around here. Particularly with the Carrows."

"They'll turn us in under the Sedition Act." Ernie nodded. Then he snorted. "Actually, they'll probably just find reasons to get us anyway—"

"Right." Daphne voice grew stronger. "They're gonna get us somehow, so we might as well try to do something . . . I dunno—"

Neville smiled at her sentiment. "Good, you mean?"

"Yeah." Daphne grinned. "But we've gotta be careful. So we came up with this idea of pamphlets that requires a phrase to break the Concealment Charm on them."

There were several curious murmurs and whispers around the room.

"We'll give each of you a pamphlet with instructions about how to duplicate them, courtesy of Luna," she gestured to the blonde Ravenclaw, who smiled serenely and waved at the room, "and you can distribute them to the other students in your Houses. Just be careful whom you give them to." Daphne sucked in a breath. "Make sure that they can be trusted. And," she raised her finger for one final point, "tell them that all the information in this pamphlet can be found right in our library. They just have to ask Pince about the Parchment Archive—"

"Um, well, I hate to interrupt you while you're on a roll, but," Anthony Goldstein spoke up, "but this could mean bad news for your research."

Daphne turned and looked at Anthony Goldstein with a troubled expression. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I just thought about this, but what if you get caught, or any one of us gets caught with these." Anthony held up his parchment. "We probably should've discussed this more with you earlier, but you get caught, they'll trace all of this back to the sources, right? And they'll destroy all of this information." He peered at Daphne in a very curious way. "Do you know if there are duplicates of this information _other _than what's at Hogwarts?"

She let out a breath. "Damn! I hadn't thought about—" Daphne started rubbing her forehead, frustrated. Ginny let out a sigh. In all the excitement of piecing together the parchment, none of the girls had thought about protecting the actual reference and research materials. They had been too focused on the pamphlets themselves.

"Duplicate them all!"

Ginny watched as the entire room turned to face Luna Lovegood.

We've got my father's Doubling Charms, in all its variations. Use them on all the documents and start duplicating them. We can hide the copies somewhere safe!" Luna looked around the Room of Requirement. "This room would be great to hide something in."

"Daphne, it could work," Ginny said, shrugging slightly. "Why don't we work on it, okay?"

The Slytherin nodded. "That might be a big project, though." And then she smiled.

Ginny couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her. "You look like you've already got a plan."

"Not so much a plan as," she smirked, "maybe I can _use_ this, y'know?"

"What do you mean?"

Daphne didn't answer Ginny's question. Instead, she turned back to the others, holding up her arms to get them to quiet down.

"Okay . . . okay," she said loudly. "I'm thinking that, if we're gonna be doing this document duplication thing, then we'll need a lot of help with this." Daphne swallowed and took a deep breath. "I might have to bring in my partner—"

"Whoa! Hold on."

She turned around to face Neville. Behind them, several murmurs once again arose around the room. "This is a really sensitive matter, right? We can't just allow anyone to have access to our meetings or the things we say in here."

"W-well," Daphne winced and grunted, "h-he wants to be a part of this too, Neville. A-and . . . I've brought this."

She reached into her robes and pulled out a small vial of a clear liquid. She shook it in front of Neville's face, and held it up to show the others. "Veritaserum. I nicked it from Slughorn's office."

(_Oh for Godric's sake!_)

(_Why in the world would she do that? Does it really necessitate this extreme—_)

(_Who the hell is her partner?_)

Ginny heard an odd sound from the back of the room, like somebody had just hissed and kicked at something. When she turned around, there was nobody there.

But that didn't take her mind completely away from the fact that Daphne had stolen a very powerful truth serum from her Potions Master.

"You _nicked _Veritaserum?" Michael exclaimed. He stood up and stared right at her. "Bloody hell, Daphne! Was that really necessary?"

Daphne nodded. Ginny noticed that her face was growing more and more anxious as Michael reacted to her admission. "I think it is, and you'll understand when you see who my partner is. We can use it on him to prove that he's trustworthy."

"_Him_?" Michael shook his head. "Who in the world's your partner?" He asked the question in a milder voice than before, but Ginny saw an odd look of concern mixed with something akin to jealousy or anger plastered all over his face.

Every head ping-ponged back and forth between the Ravenclaw boy and the Slytherin girl. Daphne stood her ground, but she kept her voice even in tone and her face soft. She spoke directly to Michael but loudly enough so the whole room would hear her.

"Michael. Trust me. _Please_. The way I see it, give him one to two drops of this," she held up the bottle once again, "and save the rest of it for later. From the looks of it, even from this small vial alone, we might have enough for twenty doses, if necessary." She slowly shook her head, but maintained eye contact with him. "Desperate times, Michael."

Ginny found herself breathing out as Michael's face softened even more.

"Desperate measures, huh?"

Daphne smiled at him. "Now, I want you to think. You know whom I've associated with in my house. Last year. This year, too. Our first week back—"

Now, Michael's face erupted.

"_Blaise_ _Zabini_?!" He never looked so disgusted.

Ginny hissed. Outrage poured out from the others.

"No! _No_ _way_!" Ernie Macmillan insisted.

"Horrible idea, Daphne," piped up Anthony.

"That _bastard_ told Su Li she should be put down like an animal. For being Muggle-born, Daphne!" Ginny had never seen such a livid expression on Terry Boot's face. "He's got no problems whatsoever tossing out the M-word like it's nothing!"

Ginny spoke up, trying to keep a lid on her anger out of respect for Daphne, but feeling her blood boil nonetheless. "He called me a blood traitor several times. And I never liked the way he looked at Dean. He was disgusted by him!" She shivered. "He disgusts me too, if I'm honest."

Michael shook his head. "You can't be serious. Please tell me you're not serious!"

Daphne walked up to Michael and looked him squarely in the eyes. "I am. And, if you know me, then you know that people can change, right?"

He stopped and looked at her. Ginny could tell his resolve was breaking.

"Michael, why do you think I spent so much time with him? I was talking to him the entire time."

"About?"

"This stuff," she waved a parchment in front of his face. "All the stuff that's in the pamphlet. It's because of _him _that I found out about all this research, and I was able to write my articles about it! He even gave me the idea to write this out in the first place. He _helped _me write them out." Her voice softened. She cupped his cheeks and gave his head a small shake. "Can you please trust me? That I know what I'm doing?"

Michael flushed at her touch. "D-Daphne . . . er, the others—?"

"Sod the others!" She spoke quietly to him and him alone. "Do _you_ trust me?"

Ginny could hear the slightest amount of fear creeping into her voice.

"This isn't like last year, Michael. I'm not doing what I did last year. I- . . . I just want to know if you're behind me."

Ginny watched as he shut his eyes and nodded, a small smile poking through his face. "I'll trust you."

Daphne mouthed a "thank you" to him, and kissed him on the cheek. Blushing and clearing her throat, she walked back up to the front of the room.

"All right. Are we all in agreement that the Ministry's going to come down really hard on witches and wizards that don't fit the status quo?"

"Yeah, but wha' the hell does tha' have to do with that utter _pig_ _rectum_ Zabini?" Seamus said angrily. He gestured wildly at Daphne.

"I'll . . . er, let _him _tell you."

Several shocked gasps and huffs echoed throughout the Room. Ginny watched as Daphne's shoulder's sagged, the reaction to her announcement clearly weighing her down. Just as Ginny was about to say something to her, Daphne turned to her left and whispered something into the air—

Except, it wasn't merely "air". There was a strange rippling effect, which Ginny recognized as an Invisibility Cloak being flung off of a person.

And standing before the now-outraged Dumbledore's Army, was none other than Blaise Zabini himself, all tall, dark, handsome . . . and glowering. A number of yells and protests filled the room.

Ginny sucked in a breath. "Oh _Daphne!_ You've got to be kidding—"

"Feckin' hell! He was here the entire time?!" Seamus yelled.

"We're doomed!" Padma shook her head.

Neville stormed towards Daphne. "This wasn't right. You should've told someone he was going to be here—"

"Like how Harry and Hermione told all of you that they invited me to join Dumbledore's Army back in our fifth year?" She shot Neville a very serious look. "Neville, I get your concerns. But I stand by Blaise. And I'm confident," she held up the vial of Veritaserum again, "that if you administer this, it'll tell you everything you need to know about Blaise's true intentions."

"Well," Blaise stepped forward, his face clearly saying that he was about to let loose his acid tongue, "as much as I would like to participate in your little discussion about whether I'm _trustworthy_ or not, I'd like to just tell the entire room that I did not agree to be poisoned!"

"Blaise, you _idiot_! Veritaserum's not poison. You know that!"

He glared at Daphne. "This is all your fault! _They _don't want anything to do with me—"

"Do you blame us?" The two red-faced Slytherins turned towards Neville. Never had such a deadly glare passed through the Gryffindor boy's eyes. "_Zabini_, you've done nothing but treat Muggle-born wizards and witches with contempt and disgust. You don't care about whom you've hurt or how your insults hurt others." His nostrils flared; Ginny found herself, for the first time, truly intimidated by Neville. He seemed to have forgotten the others in the room, and had turned all of his attention to the Slytherin interloper. "So," Neville regarded Daphne with a stern expression, and shook his head, "maybe we will use it after all."

Blaise hissed and shut his eyes very tightly. He hunched his shoulders and very nearly retreated into himself. "Will it make any difference if I just went ahead and . . . " he swallowed, "told people why I'm here? Why I want to be here?"

Neville crossed his arms. Ginny was struck by the bizarre turn of events. Blaise Zabini, heretofore "King of Slytherin House" appeared humbled and nervous — Ginny was certain that it was the first time that he had ever looked like this. Neville, on the other hand, stood before him as an imposing and clearly dominating figure. It seemed that, in mere minutes, the balance of power had switched between the two pure-bloods. Ginny blinked rapidly and took a deep breath to come back to her senses.

Neville stepped towards Blaise. "All right. Say what you need to, Zabini."

"_Nev_? C'mon! Y' can't seriously be considering—"

"Seamus, I . . . I just think that . . ." Neville turned to his other Gryffindors and the rest of the DA. "We did give Daphne a shot with us. We've been fine having her in the DA," he held his hand out to her, and Daphne gave him a small, awkward smile, "She's one of us." Neville smiled. "And she trusts Zabini," he nodded to the other Slytherin, "so maybe we should trust her judgment on this. Leave the past in the past." He looked at Seamus. "He might be able to help us out at some point in the future."

The Gryffindor sat back down, but his nostrils still flared and his jaw was still set angrily.

Neville gestured to Blaise, "You've got the floor."

Blaise glared at Neville, then at Daphne for a few brief moments, and then shook his body. He looked as if he was getting ready to say something to the audience, and he had to mentally gird himself.

Taking a breath, Blaise began. "As many of you know, I have . . ." he searched for the right words, "not been the most _supportive _of Mud – . . ." Blaise and Daphne both winced, and Daphne smacked her forehead, "Muggle-borns," he continued. "I think I've done some things to people in this room and to your friends. If I have hurt anyone, then I'm sorry."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Blaise, if you apologize, _don't _bloody add a qualifier!"

Blaise hissed at her, but turned back to his audience. "_I – apologize_! For hurting you and your friends."

"Well," shouted Anthony Goldstein, "_not _accepted!" A chorus of angry "Yeahs!" and "Tell him, Goldstein!" filled the Room.

"That's the least apologetic apology I've ever heard!" Michael exclaimed.

Blaise shook his head, and turned around as if to leave, but Daphne put her hands on his shoulders. He faced the angry mob again. "I want to help all of you. I honestly want to be here and be a part of Dumbledore's Army."

Blaise was mumbling, but Ginny noted his contrite expression. She didn't really want to admit it to herself, but watching him so closely, observing his face and his body, Ginny felt a little niggling sensation creep from the back of her mind.

She didn't want to believe it, but Blaise Zabini actually _seemed_ sincere.

(_Well . . . so long as he's not speaking!_)

Michael crossed his arms and glared at him. "Why should we believe you?"

"That's right!" Seamus spoke up. "Ya've done nothin' but cursed and insulted our friends. Dean told me how y' taunted 'im! Y' even tried to hex him! What the _fuck_ makes you think we're gonna be lettin' you in here?!"

"I'd like the answer to that myself," Ginny said. Despite her growing doubts that he had an ulterior motive for being here, she felt herself growing more and more angry. She couldn't help but remember the insults that had streamed out of Blaise Zabini's mouth; those painful memories were making her wand hand _very_ twitchy.

Daphne turned to Blaise. "You need to tell them."

"No, I _don't_!"

"Blaise—"

"This was a mistake. A big mistake." To Ginny's surprise, Blaise Zabini's face had fallen, and she could definitely hear nervous tension creeping into his voice. He rubbed his forehead as if he ached.

"Blaise," Daphne said, quietly. Her hand grasped his shoulder. Blaise patted it gently twice, shut his eyes and stood up.

Ginny could see his chin tremble, and he sucked in his cheeks and his lips and then—

"I'm g- . . ." Blaise stopped. Daphne's hand squeezed his shoulder.

Taking one more breath, Blaise spoke up loudly.

"I'm gah- . . .er, g-gay." He finished his sentence with an awkward squeak and proceeded to turn such a violent red, Ginny thought blood would start gushing out of every hole on his face.

(_What?!_)

(_He's gay?_)

(Oh_!_)

(_He's _gay_! Wait . . . HE'S _GAY?!)

Ginny felt the atmosphere of the room shift, much as her own attitude had in the split seconds that followed the announcement. Michael Corner's livid face froze and melted into one of shock. Ernie Macmillan inhaled very deeply and exclaimed, "Whoa!" Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein looked at each other, mouthing, "_Ew_!"

Seamus stared at him, his look of fury morphing into something that resembled disgust.

Luna Lovegood was the first to step forward; she put her hand on Blaise's shoulder. The Slytherin looked at her confused, as if he wasn't sure if he should recoil from the contact or simply go along with it.

"Well, I for one think that all of us would benefit from feeling _more_ gay. Especially in these dark times!"

Ginny's eyes went wide, as did Daphne's . . . as did the rest of Dumbledore's Army.

Blaise's mouth merely fell open.

"What?" Luna said, looking around the room befuddled at their reactions. "I see nothing wrong with feeling more gay and more happy—"

Seamus snorted loudly.

"And if Blaise feels like this, then by all means, he should be allowed!"

Daphne shook her head and she walked up to Luna. "Er . . . Luna, when Blaise says he's _gay_, what he means is . . ." and she leaned over to whisper into the Ravenclaw's ear. Luna's eyes widened just a little bit and she pressed her fingertips over her mouth, which was shaped into a very round "O"! Luna exhaled and nodded slowly.

"I see. But why is that such a problem?"

Daphne stared at her. "Because he's not going to have any children. There's no way a wizard can get pregnant. No potions or spells, or anything! And . . . I dunno. There are people that think it's not part of the 'natural order" or somethin'—"

Blaise groaned and smacked his forehead. "Why do we need to talk about this?"

"But if he's in love with someone and he's not hurting anyone with his relationship, then it's not wrong. Falling in love is never wrong . . . well, unless you're a Snorkack and you mate with a Slashkilter from Stoats Glen. And then that's really only because the Slashkilter would be apt to eat their own young, particularly with the Snorkack blood in them. Slashkilters are enormously bloodthirsty creatures!"

Ginny bit her lip, trying hard not to laugh. Several of the others, including Michael, Terry and Anthony were doing the same, pressing their fists into their mouths.

Daphne blinked several times in disbelief and shook her head very quickly. "Er . . . okay? Well," she addressed the others in the room, "now you know. Blaise?"

All eyes turned to look at the Slytherin boy. Seamus still looked like he was stewing about something, but he was trying to keep it bottled up. Lavender, Parvati, and Hannah seemed to show some degrees of understanding, even sympathy toward the Slytherin boy who had just come out of the closet.

Ginny noticed that out of all the girls in the room, only Padma and Susan Bones had expressions similar to Seamus. She wasn't quite sure whether that meant they had problems with Blaise himself or Blaise's announcement.

The Slytherin boy looked around the room, flexing his cheek and jaw muscles. He turned his eyes to the floor of the Room and kicked at the smooth stone a few times. He then started speaking in a voice that was soft, almost apologetic in tone.

"I'm g-gay, and I've been in a relationship with another wizard for almost tw-two years, now."

The more Ginny watched him, the more she realized Blaise was trembling. He grabbed at his mouth and his chin, his face quivering from nerves or trepidation about how they would react to his announcement, she could only guess. He took in several deep breaths that rattled as they expelled from his mouth and he kept shaking his head back and forth, forgetting that he was still standing in front of a very captive audience.

"Whatever! This still doesn't mean he's not a rat bastard!" Seamus finally spoke up. "How do we know that he's not gonna sell us out?"

Blaise glared at the Gryffindor and pursed his lips together. "Is there no one in this room that fully trusts me? Except for Daphne?"

Luna was the only one who raised her hand. "I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, Blaise!"

He groaned. "Great," he muttered sarcastically.

Luna merely grinned. "You're quite welcome!"

Biting his lip, he turned slowly towards Neville and gave him a single nod. "I'll submit myself to," he pointed limply at the vial Daphne was continuing to hold, "_that_, if only to prove that I'm telling all of you the bloody truth! How's _that_?" He spat out the last word and crossed his arms.

"How do we know that it'll even work on you? There are a couple of ways to circumvent Verita—"

"Well, _Miss_ _Bones_," Blaise interrrupted Susan's question with his sarcastic drawl, "I have not ingested any antidote for Veritaserum in the past twenty-four to forty-eight hours, I have never learned Occlumency _ever_, and Daphne can tell you that I only_ just_ found out she planned this little ambush—"

"Oh bloody hell! D'ya have to be so dramatic?" Daphne huffed.

He shrugged. "Desperate times, dearest Daphne!" She rolled her eyes at him once again. "Plus, you can include those questions in your little interrogation of me. Deal?"

Susan merely cocked her eyebrow at him.

"Well, since you're agreeing to this, Blaise," Neville started and he scrunched up the right side of his face for just a moment—

A big comfy chair appeared just behind Blaise. Neville let out a little sigh of relief. "Glad that worked." He gestured for Blaise to sit down.

Daphne's eyes shifted between her Slytherin friend and the little vial filled with the colorless liquid. "Blaise, do you want me to give you this?"

"I don't care _who _gives it to me." He waved his hand dismissively at her. "Just get this over with!"

"Just remember, one drop is effective for twenty-four hours. If I give you two, I'll take you straightaway to Pomfrey and make up some 'accidental Veritaserum ingestion' story."

"Whatever. Let's do this!"

Taking a very slow, very deep breath, Daphne lifted the stopper off of the vial. Ginny strained to watch Daphne gingerly tip the vial, now angled just above Blaise's mouth, and she tapped it twice with her fingertips. She exhaled slowly, and brought the small bottle back to an upright position. Blaise's face relaxed almost instantly; his eyes glazed over, focusing on nothing.

Plunging the stopper back on, Daphne nodded to Neville.

"Um . . . okay." Neville turned and looked at Ginny with a grimace on his face. She gave him a thumbs-up.

"You'll do fine, Nev."

"Just make sure I don't forget anything, all right?" Neville gave her a small grin and turned back to the now-dosed Slytherin. He coughed to clear his throat.

"Your full name?"

"I'm Blaise Fedele Zabini," he said in a steady, monotone voice.

"Are . . . uh, ah-are you, wait a second." Neville closed his mouth and lightly tapped his finger in the air, as if creating some sort of quiet, mental rhythm. "Okay, have you taken any antidote for Veritaserum over the last forty-eight hours?"

"No."

"Have you ever learned Occlumency?"

"I have not."

"Did you know that Daphne brought Veritaserum to the meeting today?" Neville asked in a steady voice.

"I did not know she was going to bring Veritaserum." Blaise's voice sounded distant, as if it were detached from his own body.

"All right. Have you told anyone else about this meeting?"

"No I haven't."

"Good. Now . . . do you want to join Dumbledore's Army?"

"Yes I do."

Neville let out a breath, as did almost all of the others in the Room, save for Daphne and Luna, who merely smiled a little more wide at Blaise. "And why do you want to join?" He kept his voice steady and cool, although Ginny could see just the slightest trembling in his hands.

"Because I think that Dumbledore's Army is right and I do not agree with the Ministry's position about Muggle-borns."

"_Wow,_" Neville snapped his head back and breathed out. "Um, Blaise . . . ah-are you currently planning on, er . . . turning any of us in to Snape?"

"No." The rumblings in the Room grew even louder, and Neville waved his hands in the air to quiet the noise.

"Would you turn us in to Amycus or Alecto Carrow?"

"No."

"A-and . . . are you telling the truth? That you're, er . . . gay?" Neville winced as he asked the question. He leaned over and whispered to Ginny. "Is that all right? To even ask that?"

Ginny shrugged. "I think so. Dunno why anyone would make that up. But I think it's good to verify the reasons why he wants to do this."

Blaise nodded. "I am. I've been seeing another wizard for over a year now. Going on two."

"Last questions." Neville bent over and peered at Blaise's face very carefully. "Is the fact that you're in a relationship with another wizard one of the main reasons why you want to help us out?"

Blaise nodded. "It is."

"Why?" Neville held his breath.

"Because I fear the Ministry will come after us because we're different. And it will make him very happy." He finished speaking with a smile.

Neville stood back up and looked at the others. "I can't think of anything else to ask him. Can any of you?"

The others looked amongst themselves, rather stunned at the outcome of the interrogation. Seamus still regarded Blaise with a skeptical stare.

"Even if he means it now, doesn't mean he won't in the future! He's still a Slytherin bastard!" The Irish lad spoke in a menacing tone.

"_Thanks_, Seamus!"

Everyone turned and watched Daphne Greengrass shoot Seamus a dangerous glare. "I suppose you think I'm some ratty Slytherin bitch, huh?"

"I didn't mean you," he responded in a miffed, slightly exasperated tone.

"Well, how else am I supposed to take it when you say shit like that?" She angrily thrust her hand out towards him.

Seamus muttered something under his breath.

"I didn't catch that."

"I said that I neva' 'eard ya say half the shite I _know _he says—!"

"_Said_, Seamus."

"Whatever! And besides," Seamus sneered at Blaise, "wha' he is? Is just wrong. I don' think that just because he's a bloody knobjockey doesn't mean he's hurtin' more than Dean. Or any other Muggle-borns out there!"

"But it does mean he's got a lot to lose in this new regime, Seamus." Neville interrupted. "And I think he's serious. No one can lie under Veritaserum, and, for right now, he's telling the truth. Plus," Neville shrugged. "Did you see he's got an Invisibility Cloak?"

Daphne smirked. "Rolling in the Galleons, his mummy is. He's had that for a while. It's what he used to sneak around the school in fifth and sixth year. To be with his _sweetheart_." She batted her eyes, her voice sickly sweet. "Mummy spoiled him rotten. She just didn't know _why _he wanted it!"

Neville chuckled. "I've got a feeling that that might come in handy at some point. Seamus, we've gotta all be in this together." He held out his hand to his fellow Gryffindor. "Are you in or are you out?"

Seamus took one final look at Blaise as the Slytherin wizard continued to sit in his comfy chair staring out at nothing. He turned back to Neville, nodded once and gave a solid pump of his hand.

"Fine. Deal. But I get first dibs at that prick if he steps out of line."

Daphne shrugged. "I'm pretty sure you won't be alone there, Finnigan."


	21. Chapter 20: Under a Spell

**A/N: **Please forgive the excessive use of "Wonderwall" in this chapter. It's been my inspiration for Daphne and Michael's relationship, and I've been wanting to write this particular scene for ages. I first bring up Magical Audio-Phones and Audio-Spellcards in "Chapter 17: Matters of the Heart" in _**Daphne Greengrass and the 6th Year From Hell**_. My version of Michael Corner, for the uninitiated, is a total music geek. Because I love those types so very, very much.

This chapter dedicated to the denizens of the Sober Universe for inspiring Daphne's metaphors about certain "activities". Thank you so much.

I own nothing, not Harry Potter nor "Wonderwall", a song that Oasis owns. Rated T for strong language and one nasty Death Eater.

* * *

**Chapter 20**: **Under a Spell**

Sunday in the Slytherin common room had started out rather calm and peaceful.

Well, more calm and peaceful than Daphne had been expecting.

After the Sorting Feast and the discovery that Pansy Parkinson loathed her with a fury ten times greater than last year, Daphne had been logically expecting the worst. Anytime she'd entered the dormitory, Daphne had made sure Millicent was with her, and that it was never just her and Pansy alone. She kept her time in the common room at a minimum, usually finding a spot on the couches or at a table if Blaise or Millicent was there already.

But the atmosphere had changed noticeably. There was still talk of Quidditch and the Wizarding Wireless Network playing in the background. But the WWN currently provided the soapbox for Minister Thicknesse and his pro-Voldemort, anti-Muggle-born agenda. The students allowed it to play without hesitation.

"—_Let it be known,_" Thicknesse's strident voice sounded over the wireless, "_that the Ministry shall not stand by and allow these thieves of magic, these pilferers of the public health and safety to go unpunished. I say to all witches and wizards out there: tell us about the Mudbloods you know of, turn them in, protect your families, protect your powers! Together we can make a difference in our society!_"

Daphne felt nauseated at the sound of the Minister's voice and the words he used. Looking around, she noticed groups of students huddled together. She sighed; already into the school year and it seemed that many of the students had gravitated to specific groups. There were a very small number of students who seemed to dislike the anti-Muggle-born attitude as much as Daphne did, but they remained mostly quiet. Another group wanted absolutely nothing to do with either side. But there were quite a few Slytherins who seemed to be willing to fall in line with the reigning regime currently running Hogwarts.

Daphne couldn't help but wonder just how much was going to change over the next year. But wondering about the future wasn't going to help her get her Advanced Arithmancy charts done any quicker.

So she sat at a long wooden study table, finishing up her Advanced Arithmancy charts, and Blaise Zabini was poking . . .

And poking . . .

_And_ poking her.

"What – is – _it_?" Daphne hissed. "Between Minister _Taint-_ness and you pestering me, I can't get my bloody homework done!"

"Oh, _I'm _sorry," Blaise said in a mock innocent tone. "I didn't mean to disturb the girl that almost got my _arse _kicked yesterday!"

"Are you kidding me?" Daphne slammed her quill down in exasperation. "I already apologized once. What more do you want me to do? Publicly declare you the handsomest bloke that ever graced the halls of Hogwarts? Wear an 'I'd-Be-Easy-for-Blaise-Zabini' shirt—"

He smirked. "Do you have one? We could make one specially for you."

Daphne threw several balled-up parchments at him. Blaise ducked and blocked the onslaught with his hand.

"Blaise," Daphne sighed, "I've got no idea what you want, okay? Just _tell_ me!" She shook her hands and her body in a frustrated manner. "Don't pull this shite with me. Be upfront. Be straightforward with me!"

Blaise beckoned her over and leaned forward with a serious expression. Daphne complied.

He whispered in her ear . . .

"Nahhh . . . I'll stick with the whole 'annoy Daphne until she beans me in the head with soft objects' philosophy." Blaise sat back in his chair and twiddled his wand in his fingers. He cocked an eyebrow, grinned and shrugged. "I do so love getting you all riled up. It's the best possible way to spend a day that ends in 'Y'!"

Daphne seethed. "_Why_, in the _freak-ing_ name of everything good and wonderful in this world, do I even bother—"

"_Why_?"

A different voice — a female voice, strained and desperate in tone — came from behind Daphne. She watched Blaise's face fall, and he brought up his wand.

"Pansy," Blaise said, standing up, "we don't want to fight now, do we?"

Daphne turned around and faced Pansy Parkinson, staring right into her eyes. She had been surprised that, despite Pansy's reaction to her at the feast, and Bulstrode's words of warning, it had taken one whole week for any sort of direct showdown to occur.

However, it appeared that it was, indeed, "high noon".

"Blaise, so help me . . . just stay the _fuck_ out of this," Pansy said through gritted teeth, her eyes remaining on Daphne.

Daphne stood up. Just over Pansy's shoulder, she could see half the common room staring at them, including many of the younger students that she had talked to last year about Harry Potter to recruit to his side during the war.

"Pansy," Daphne started, "look I don't know what problem you have with me. I thought we talked things out a couple of months ago, and that everything was okay."

Just before Daphne had left Hogwarts, she had found a crying, sleep-deprived Pansy Parkinson camped out in the Slytherin common room. After realizing that Draco Malfoy had never included her in on the plan to kill Dumbledore, Daphne told Pansy a stripped-down version of what Harry had told her; Malfoy hadn't killed Dumbledore after all, and he had not been alone on the roof top that day. She made no mention of the fact that Harry had also told her Snape was on the rooftop and Snape had been the one who killed--

(_Not now, you idiot!_)

Pansy had said nothing back then. She had merely nodded, indicating that she had heard Daphne.

Yet, here they were, Pansy and Daphne . . .

And Pansy looked like she was ready to eat Daphne's face.

"I need to know, Greengrass. Why did you tell me _anything_? Anything at all about last year?" Pansy walked slowly toward her, her face red and livid. "You don't know anything, do you?"

"Pansy, I—"

"_DO_ _YOU_?!"

Daphne had no idea how to proceed. Last time she had allowed Pansy Parkinson to bait her, both girls ended up in the Hospital Wing, Parkinson had lost her prefect badge, and they'd ended up with detentions with Snape for weeks.

Now, Daphne was Head Girl, and that honor, with the perks of having access to the halls after hours and Snape's office at will, was far too good to give up for a couple minutes' satisfaction of punching Parkinson in her pug-nose.

And, more importantly, that day at the train station, when she had answered the questions from the other students when they had asked her for guidance, was a new stepping stone for Daphne. It allowed her to see that she had a real opportunity to help out and take care of some of the innocent parties who might get caught up in the Death Eaters' bloodthirsty games . . . .

"_ANSWER ME, DAMMIT_!"

Daphne thought about this current situation.

She opened her mouth.

And, she pivoted on her heels, quickly _Accioed_ all of parchments, quills and books into her bag, and made for the door, without so much as a backwards glance to Pansy.

"What do you think you're doing?" Pansy shouted.

Daphne just kept walking. There were shuffling sounds behind her, and she heard—

"Get off me, Millicent!"

"Don't you bloody hex her, Pansy."

Daphne couldn't help but smile as Millicent Bulstrode apparently defended her honor. She turned around, and saw Millicent, her thick broad arms pushing Pansy back. Blaise had come over to Pansy, trying to talk some reason into her.

"What're you doing, Daphne?" Blaise asked her. "Just go!"

Daphne looked at Pansy. "I'm not going to fight you. No matter what you try to do, what hex you throw at me, what curse or jinx. The Headmaster—" she repressed a gutful of bile from rising in her throat, "made me Head Girl, and I intend to remain Head Girl."

She tried to keep her expression bland and unreadable as she continued to speak. "I don't think it would be a good idea to show such discord in Slytherin House, Pansy. What message do you want to send to the other Houses? To the Carrows? That we can't live in harmony with each other? Millicent's got the right idea. What about you? Can't you just let bygones be bygones?"

Pansy Parkinson stopped struggling. She was still breathing hard, but she wrenched herself out of the bigger girl's grasp. Millicent, though, clearly had her guard up; her arms were still extended, waiting for Pansy to charge again.

"Daphne," Millicent addressed, "_go_! I'll meet up with you later for those, er . . . Potions essays."

Daphne held back a snort.

(_Maybe in an alternate universe Bulstrode actually _knows _what a bloody potion is!_)

Instead, she merely nodded, relieved that Blaise and Millicent seemed to have things under control.

Daphne stepped out into the main dungeon corridor, rubbing her head and shouldering her book bag as she walked briskly toward the entrance hall.

"Shit . . . shit . . . _shit_!"

Daphne was so preoccupied with what had just happened with Pansy that she ran right into a tall, dark and skinny object . . . that had been shouting her name for the past five minutes.

"_Ooof_!"

"Whoa there." Michael Corner grasped her shoulders to hold her steady. He smiled. "You look like you're being chased by a ghost or something."

Daphne breathed out, relieved that it was only Michael that she had encountered. "Just Pansy in the common room. No big deal."

Michael's face fell. "Pansy? _Pansy Parkinson_ tried to do something to you?" He was evidently growing angrier and angrier. Daphne placed a hand on his chest; she hoped it would calm him.

"Easy, Sparky. She tried to goad me into a fight, but I walked away. Bul . . . I mean _Millicent_ and Blaise held her off."

"Oh," he relaxed a little bit, but he still looked guarded when Daphne brought up Blaise. "Hey," he nudged his head toward the entryway. "Do you have a moment? Want to go outside?"

She smiled, but made as if pondering some age-old question. "Hmm . . . study, or hang out with Corner . . . study, or hang out with Corner." She moved her hands like scales. "Well, I guess you're more appealing than homework."

Michael smiled and rolled his eyes. "Why thank you for that endorsement." Putting a hand on her back, he ushered Daphne outside.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, warm with a gentle, rolling breeze caressing Daphne's skin. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

"So," she started brightly, brushing her hair away from her face, "on a scale of one to ten, one being the biggest pile of troll shit and ten being—"

"Time alone in a classroom with me?" Michael said cheekily and winked at her.

Daphne blushed and grinned. "How would you rank the meeting yesterday?"

He raised an eyebrow. "A two. Three if I'm being generous."

"Damn." She sighed. "I was hoping for at least a six or seven."

"Well, did you really expect bringing Zabini in would be all puppies and rainbows?"

Daphne shrugged. "I dunno what I was expecting. It definitely wasn't Finnigan getting all huffy about him." She breathed out. "In fact, it was like he and Padma and Susan all had puffeskins up their arses about Blaise." She looked at him with a confused expression. "I guess it's my fault. I didn't expect the DA to be so judgy."

Michael winced. "Well, I don't really blame 'em. It _is_ gross, y'know . . . what, um . . . _you know_—" He swirled his hands in front of him, continuing the sentiment even if he couldn't verbalize the rest of his statement. He looked like he had just smelled something very stinky.

"You don't like the idea of two blokes shagging?" Daphne laughed as he shivered in repulsion.

"Michael, do you feel the same way as Seamus does about Blaise?" She stopped and faced him, looking right into his eyes. Her arms were crossed, and her face still had a smile on it, although it was noticeably smaller than before. She found herself genuinely curious about how he felt.

Michael scratched his head. "Erm . . . it's not like I really have any opinion about the actual, well . . . the _gay_ part, or anything," he started awkwardly.

Daphne slid down, sitting in the dampened grass shaded by a large oak tree. Crossing her legs, she continued to look at Michael Corner, as he struggled with the English language.

"If it's not because Blaise's gay, then what is it?"

"Er . . . okay, well . . . i-it's because . . . y'see. . . ." He fell beside her, reclining on his side as he fiddled with a few blades of grass. "Okay . . . all right . . . I just think it's gross what they have to do to . . . _y'know_," he said, swirling his hand in the air.

Daphne moved her head in sync with Michael's very chatty hand. "You mean when they have to _blow _the basilisk? _Lick _the spotted _dick_? _Ride_ the Hogwarts' Express right into the—"

"_Okay! _Okay." He clamped his hands over his ears. "Are you finished?"

Daphne giggled. "I really do like making you squirm." She waggled her eyebrows as he shot daggers at her. "But, in all seriousness, Michael, it's not like Blaise's going to advertise anything he does with his bloke. And he's most certainly not gonna try to _do_ anything to you—"

"Oh, for bloody Godric's sake! I hope not!" he huffed. He gave Daphne a flat glare. And, quite suddenly, he fell over onto his back and let out several hearty guffaws.

Rubbing his eyes, Michael took a few moments to regain his composure from his fit of hysteria. "Ah, shite! We've all got our things don't we?" He rolled back over to his side and shook his head. "All of our own opinions and judgments about people and who they are and who their families are and who they shag." He turned his eyes back towards Daphne. "I do think the best thing about the whole 'Blaise is gay!' thing is that I've got no reason to be jealous anymore."

Daphne's eyebrow couldn't have shot up any faster. She knew she was blushing furiously; briefly, she wondered whether the famous Weasley blush was somehow contagious. "O-oh . . . er, jeal-jealous?" she said, the words stumbling out of her mouth.

Michael gave her one of his little lopsided grins. "Well, you two _did_ have a past, and you talked about him incessantly. I would've thought you were dating him if you weren't pulling me into empty classrooms and closets all last year."

Daphne was sure that she was blushing so hard, that she resembled an apple.

Michael noticed her crimson appearance; his smile filled his entire face and he wiggled a finger at her. "I don't think I've ever seen you so red before, Daphne." He bit his bottom lip in excitement. "I really do like making you squirm!" And he scrunched his nose up at her.

She gasped and laughed and she started swatting him. "Hey! No fair!" she exclaimed. "Use your own words, you lit—"

And Daphne stopped. Michael had caught both of her hands in his, and was giving her a look . . .

No. _The _look.

The look the look told her exactly what his next moves would be.

Michael pulled her toward him, his hands wrapped around her wrists, the pads of his thumbs rubbing her skin in small circles. Her body softened and she allowed herself to be drawn forward and never took her eyes off of him.

She bent down toward him halfway, her lips already parted. Michael reached forward, closing the distance.

Closer . . .

And closer . . .

And they closed the distance.

It was soft and shaky and a little toothy at first because it had been so long — too long, really — since they had kissed like a true couple. But they kissed and they continued kissing, long after Daphne fell over onto her own side and entwined her fingers into his longer and skinnier ones and long after Michael rolled over just a tiny bit so he could better hold her as he continued to kiss her. He let go of her fingers and wrapped his arms around her, tangling his hands in her hair.

And Daphne gave a silent "_thankyou_" that they had chosen a spot facing away from Hogwarts, since she didn't fancy the possibility of the Carrows or Snape witnessing this moment.

They pulled away after an eternity of snogging and holding each other. Daphne smiled, her eyes and face soft, and she ran her fingers through his hair, lightly laughing as he kissed her face all over.

" . . . _gahsummnferyah._"

"Hmm?" Daphne asked. Michael was nuzzling into her neck, making it absolutely impossible to understand what he had just said. Not that she minded though.

Michael lifted his head up, his shaggy mane catching on her straight dark tresses. "I've got something for you," he said, his lips parted and his face flushed. He turned around and pulled his book bag over to him.

She propped herself on her elbows, both curious and a little annoyed that their lovely little snogging session had ended so abruptly.

Michael turned around, holding a little black object. Daphne recognized it as his Magical Audio-Phone, or M.A.P.s, a device witches and wizards could use to play music. M.A.P.s read off wizard music from slim Audio-Spellcards.

Any bright, young, and rather ingenious wizard or witch could figure out how to lift Muggle songs trapped in their own contraptions and transfer them onto the Audio-Spellcards that the M.A.P. used. Michael, himself, had bragged on several occasions to Daphne that he possessed one of the most extensive collections of Muggle and magical music on Spellcards of any Hogwarts student.

"That's your M.A.P., huh?" She took it into her hands, rather surprised at how new and scratch-free it looked.

Michael shook his head and tried to hold back a smile. "Actually, it's yours."

Daphne just stared at him. "Wh-what?"

"I ordered it for you. Wanted to give it to you so . . . I dunno. I could let you listen to some of the music I have. All those wizarding bands that aren't really well-known."

She could tell her eyes were shining, but the only thing she could croak out to him was, "wh- . . . we're in the gift-giving stage now of our relationship, huh?"

He smirked at her. "Oh, well . . . if you don't want it, I can take it back—"

"Not on your life, buster!" She held it just out of reach above her shoulder. "I- . . . just, this is the first thing a boy's ever given to me. Thanks."

"Hey! Just for the record," he gave her a teasing smile, "I'm a _man_ now, y'know? Seventeen and all." His face softened. "And you're welcome, Daphne." He coughed awkwardly. "Um, well . . . d'ya remember telling me about that new Muggle band you've been listening to—"

"Oh . . . er . . . Oasis, you mean?" She gave him an odd, curious glance.

Michael nodded. "I sort of managed to get out a bit with Tony and Terry, and we happened on a Muggle music store, so I took a peek. I found the record you told me about. Uh," Michael got that adorably sheepish look on his face, and blushed a bit, "I . . . well, just tap your wand four times right on this spot." He pointed to a little raised area that looked like a button.

Daphne took her wand and tapped the wand four times and watched as the object emitted a bright glow. Suddenly, the air around them seemed to swirl and it filled with the sound of guitars strumming and violins in the background . . .

_To-day is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you—_

Daphne could hardly believe it.

"Michael? You _did _this?" She made no attempt to hide her smile, her look of adoration toward him. He had remembered something that she loved, and had taken the time, effort, and extra risks to his personal safety (_it couldn't possibly be safe going out in Muggle areas right now!_) and had made something for her.

_And all the roads we have to walk are winding._

_And all the lights that lead us there are blinding._

For her.

_There are many things that I would like to say to you_

_But I don't know how . . . _

"Not really a big deal or anything," he said quietly. But he was looking at her the whole time.

Daphne let her eyes drift back to the M.A.P.

_Because maybe, _

_You're gonna be the one that saves me._

_And after all—_

_You're my wonderwall._

And she turned her eyes back toward Michael and realized that the song held a far greater meaning for her than ever before.

* * *

It was Monday.

The second Monday since term had started.

Another day . . . starting off with another round of abuse by Hogwarts' newest teaching staff. And Daphne was so excited, it was all she could do to _not_ find the nearest rope to make a noose for herself.

The Slytherins and Gryffindors streamed into the so-called Dark Arts classroom. Each had to walk by Amycus Carrow, who insisted upon having each student bow before him and answer his greeting . . . "The purer the blood—"

"—The better the wizard."

"Thank you, Mister Crabbe." Amycus patted the overly-large boy on the shoulders. "Your father would be proud of your enthusiasm, your _commitment_ to the cause." And he gave Crabbe a malicious grin; the Slytherin returned a similar expression.

Daphne and Blaise Zabini looked at each other, both green with nausea.

Malfoy was next, and his response to Amycus was less than enthusiastic than his companion's.

She noticed Amycus, too, did not seem as impressed with him as he was Crabbe.

And that little discovery was very surprising indeed—

"The _purer_, the blood, _Miss_ Patil!"

(_Oh no._)

(_Say it Parvati. Come on!_)

Daphne bit her lip. She remembered on the first day of class, when Amycus Carrow had informed the first person that had approached the door, Neville Longbottom, that each student was expected to complete the phrase upon entering the classroom.

"Any student who fails to answer me will be dealt with, either by my wand," and he had snapped his wand into the air, "or by my hand."

Blaise Zabini had shoved his way to the front of the queue, making a sarcastic little comment to "Dungbottom," and had responded to Carrow's phrase. He had then bowed to the Death Eater. Daphne remembered that Blaise had turned around to look at Daphne; she had nodded, indicating that he had done exactly what he should have done. Then, she had taken her turn, and had stood away from the entering students, hoping that no one would tempt fate and try to talk back. Or not respond all together.

The students followed suit then.

But, here, in the present, Parvati was not.

She wasn't saying or making any moves—

(_Parvati . . . _do_ someth—_)

_SMACK_

Parvati's head spun around with the force of the blow and she stumbled, her cheek scarlet and the wind clearly knocked out of her. To her side, both Neville and Lavender Brown came running up to catch her.

"Do you not realize, _blood_-_traitor_, who I am? All I have to do is touch this," and he thrust his forearm in front of her, his finger hovering just above the tattoo that covered it: a black, undulating outline of a skull and a snake slithering out of its mouth, "and the Dark Lord will _eviscerate_ you. Or," Amycus leaned forward, leering at her while Neville and Parvati tried to pull her away inconspicuously, "he might decide to _toy _with you a little. Teach you to have _respect_ for us pure-bloods."

Neville let out a jeer and Daphne watched as Parvati rubbed her stricken cheek.

Carrow hissed at her. "And . . . my dear," he said, reaching out to fondle her plait, "_I _might want to see what you're made of too—"

She had had enough.

"_The – purer –the – blood – the – better – the – wizard_!" Daphne spat out quickly. She stepped in front of Parvati. "M-mister . . . uh, Professor Carrow, we're ready for you. The students're very anxious to get class started. You know . . . N.E.W.T.s and all." Daphne stared at Amycus for as long as she could, and marveled at how she was able to tolerate the rotting tang of Carrow's breath.

Amycus looked at her with narrow, suspicious eyes. "Fine." And he beckoned the students to file into the classroom, Neville and Parvati being made to repeat the response to Carrow's required greeting with stony faces.

Daphne followed Parvati to her seat. "You going to be okay?"

Parvati looked up and nodded quickly. "Take your seat before he sees you talking to me all concerned. We'll meet up later in You–Know–_Where_."

Daphne agreed, but not before giving Parvati a sad, sympathetic, but comforting smile. Just behind her, Daphne saw Neville coming over to check if Parvati was okay.

When the rest of the class settled in, Amycus Carrow strode to the front, walking in long, military-style steps. He stood in front of the blackboard.

"The _Cruciatus_ _Curse_," Carrow began, with a sensuous drawl, "originated as a Healing spell, used by Magical Healers in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Healer Cronos Crucey developed a spell to localize pain in specific areas of the human body." Carrow paced slowly in front of the desks, the steel in his boots clanking on the stone floor. "Crucey used his new spell on patients with only the most _extreme_ injuries, and primarily those witches and wizards who had to lose limbs, hands, and _feet_."

Carrow kicked Seamus Finnigan's foot . . . _hard_. The Gryffindor jumped in the air, and scowled furiously at the Death Eater.

"Healer Crucey found that, in an emergency situation, where there was nothing else to knock the patient out, applying pain to specific areas of a body, had an interesting, psychological impact on the patient. The patient would either become unconscious or would focus on the new pain engulfing their body and would thus be able to tolerate the severing of the nasty, infected appendage."

Carrow stopped and turned to face the class head on.

"When Muggle persecution against witches and wizards started becoming more and more prevalent," Amycus twirled his wand between his fingers, "our kind turned to the Cruciatus Curse as a defensive weapon." Amycus walked casually between the desks, and Daphne realized that he was coming right for her.

Stopping in front of her desk, Amycus, placed his fingertips on the wood. "The Cruciatus Curse is not well appreciated outside of _certain_ ranks." Amycus smiled a horrible smile, filled with something akin to affection. "Because it originated as a Healing spell, the Cruciatus hinges on the caster's intentions; one only has to _think_, to _intend _for the spell to cause pain in a specific area. Or they could want to hurt the person all over."

The creepy grin stayed on Carrow's face.

"But all it takes is the one word — _Crucio _— and your thoughts do the rest."

To Daphne's disgust, he looked down at her.

"Miss Greengrass, since you were so anxious for class to start, why don't you step forward to help me with a little demonstration?"

Carrow turned around and strode with military precision to the front of the classroom. Daphne used those precious few seconds to calm her quickening heartbeat, her growing anxiety.

(_What . . . what the bloody fucking hell does he mean? A demonstration?_)

_SLAM_

Carrow smashed his fist into his desk, rattling it with such force, that the whole class jumped up at least two inches in the air.

"Get – up – here – _now, _Miss Greengrass!"

Daphne scurried to the front of the classroom, panting from a rush of adrenaline and fear.

(_What is he going to make me do?_)

Carrow never took his eyes off of her. Instead, he aimed at Daphne and flicked his wand.

"_Crucio_!"

Daphne's breath stopped. She flinched, expecting an onslaught of pain.

A little sting on her chest . . . and then nothing.

Behind her, students gasped in disbelief.

"Sir! You can't!"

"It's against the law to use it—" Parvati shouted.

Carrow held his hand up. "As you can see, I said the word, but I had no intention to cause Miss Greengrass any pain. So the curse did not affect her. _That _time."

"You _monster_!"

Carrow turned his head to Neville Longbottom. Daphne looked at the Gryffindor boy. Neville was turning a violent scarlet. He was practically standing up in his seat, his knuckles white as he clung to the edge of his desk. His prefect badge gleamed, even in the dim light of the Dark Arts classroom.

Carrow raised his eyebrow. "Mister Longbottom. You're volunteering for the demonstration?" That frightening smile appeared again. "Excellent." And he gestured for Neville to stand up at the front with Daphne.

Neville didn't move.

Carrow pointed his wand at Neville. "Mister Longbottom, you _will _stand up here, you will do it now, or else," and he swirled his wand over to Daphne, "I'll do it for real this time. And you'll watch her squirm in pain and realize you could've stopped me."

Daphne stared at Amycus Carrow, her eyes wide and fearful. She snapped her head at Neville, and tried to mouth at him, "No! Don't! Stay there!"

Her breathing increased as Neville gulped and walked to stand with her. He never lost the expression of furious disgust as he continued to glare at Carrow.

Amycus sneered at the pair of them. "Now, Miss Greengrass, raise your wand—"

(_Oh God!_)

"—and perform the curse on your _human_ target."

(_N-no. He can't!_)

(_HE CAN'T DO THIS!_)

Carrow continued to leer; he gritted his teeth, which gave his face an animalistic look. "Do it now, or I'll Imperius you, and then you will do _everything_ I tell you to."

He held his wand at the ready, showing he meant it.

Daphne trembled. "I ca- . . . can't . . ." she said, shaking her head. She could feel tears of fear and indecision growing in her eyes. Her eyes grazed over the rest of the class. The Gryffindors were either staring at Amycus Carrow with pure hatred or staring at her with apprehension.

Shaking and scared, she turned to look at Neville.

He stood in front of her, quaking and filled with as much trepidation as she was. Amazingly, though, he spoke to her in the most calm, centered voice she had ever heard from him.

"Daphne. It's okay," he said slowly. "I know you have to do it, and I know you won't really mean it."

Daphne trembled more, and she realized that her respect and admiration for Neville had just multiplied a thousand-fold.

"_What are you waiting for, Greengrass_?!" Carrow snapped. "Get on with it!"

And Daphne, intending only to sting Neville on his hand, copied the wand motion she had just seen Carrow perform on her, and mumbled, "_Crucio_". She tried to suppress a smile, as Neville flinched only a little bit and rubbed his stinging hand. She allowed herself to breathe out in relief as Neville gave her a small grin and nod—

"_CRUCIO!_"

"_NO_!" Daphne screamed as Neville went down.

"_YEARGH . . . AAAARGH!_" Neville yelled. He writhed and jerked as the curse pulsed from Carrow's wand. Daphne watched, her arms outstretched, wanting to catch him, but frozen in shock and fear.

Carrow kept flicking his wand back and forth and Neville's whole body moved as the wand did.

"_AARGH . . . NEER-Yeargh . . . nuuuh . . . eurrh . . ._"

His body contorted unnaturally and it bent every possible direction. His shirt and trousers ripped in places as if cut by invisible knives.

Neville never yelled at Carrow to stop. And Daphne stood, powerless to stop the attack, and she watched as his eyes started rolling to the back of his head.

"_Eurrgh . . . gurggh . . ._" Neville gurgled. Daphne made no attempt to hide her tears.

She fell to her knees, her hands on the stone floor. "Please . . . _Please Pr-professor_ . . . you're _killing _him!" She was sobbing and pounding her palms on the floor.

She was sobbing over a Gryffindor, and she didn't care if Carrow punished her for it.

Carrow raised one eyebrow at Daphne, and, rolling his eyes, he tore his wand away.

"_Finite Incantatem!_"

The curse broke, and Neville's body lay contorted and shaking. He jerked twice, as if seizing. Daphne crawled over to him.

"Neville?" she whispered harshly. "_Neville . . ._ God _please_, Neville! Wake up!"

She heard the footsteps of several students approaching her. Seamus Finnigan kneeled above Neville's unconscious head, and tried to slap him awake.

Neville could only manage an incoherent moan.

"P-pro-professor, he needs the Hospital Wing. He needs it _now_!" Daphne had never heard such desperation in her own voice, but after the scene she had just witnessed, the unabashed cruelty she had just experienced and that she had been forced to participate in, she couldn't stop her emotions from rushing into her brain.

And it was too much for her to take.

Daphne felt a hand on her shoulder. "I'll help take him to Pomfrey." She looked up and saw Blaise's pale, horrified face. Nodding slowly, not truly comprehending what was happening, Daphne let Blaise get on the other side of Neville. Seamus looked at the Slytherin boy with a brief, fleeting glare.

Both boys paused, looked at each other, and gave two reluctant nods. They stood up, Neville balanced precariously between them, his arms thrown over their shoulders.

Daphne thought his head and body resembled a rag doll. She held back the urge to throw up.

Amycus Carrow stepped in front of Neville's still incoherent form. He pushed his wand tip up against Neville's chest.

Daphne, wringing her hands, her nerves completely destroyed, watched and listened as Carrow leaned forward toward the semi-unconscious Gryffindor's ear—

"_Bellatrix_," he hissed, "sends _all _her best."

And he waved his hand to send Seamus and Blaise off. "Take him away." Carrow turned to the rest of the class, their faces a mix of disgust, fear, and, from the couple of Slytherins seeking approval from Carrow, admiration.

"Class," Carrow sneered, "is dismissed."


	22. Chapter 21: Ginny's Dreams

**A/N: **I own nothing. A big thanks to stella8h8chang, my awesome beta. If you want to read a brilliant Albus/Gellert story, please check out her _**Time Loves to Fly: Tempus Amat Volare**. _Link in my favorites. It's a WIP, but the way she writes young Albus and young Gellert is phenomenal! And thanks to one of my favorite authors JJ Rust, for spotting a couple of typos as it was originally posted. His eagle eye is much appreciated.

Luna's "British Muggle leader" that she quotes is Winston Churchill (according to a quick Google search). I could not find a source, but if others know more about it, don't hesitate to let me know! Thank you so much.

* * *

**Chapter 21: Ginny's Dreams**

It was early Monday afternoon.

Ginny ran down the corridor, her footsteps pounding with each heartbeat.

(_Hold it in . . . hold it in . . . hold it in . . ._)

She wanted to cry, but she didn't.

She wanted to throw things, but there was nothing to throw.

She wanted answers, so she went to the one other place besides the Hospital Wing that was sure to have them.

McGonagall's office.

The Headmistress was sure to be in her office by now, after having rushed to the Hospital Wing to find out what happened with Neville in that morning's Dark Arts' class. Ginny had already absorbed as much as she could from Lavender and Parvati. Seamus had come down to lunch, with Blaise Zabini following him. Seamus had mentioned that Neville had come to, but was sleeping when he left, and Pomfrey had given express orders to not disturb him.

"Ginny! Wait!"

Ginny stopped and turned. Luna Lovegood walked, without her usual dreamy gaze, to meet up with her. "Are you going to see Professor McGonagall?"

"Yeah. I want to know what the hell is going on."

Luna nodded. "This is not so good, is it?"

Ginny shook her head. "It's awful." She pointed toward the direction of the Head of Gryffindor's office. "You want to come along?"

"Only if you don't think I'll be in the way."

"You'll be fine," Ginny said hurriedly. She beckoned Luna with her arm. "Come on."

They continued quickly, onto their destination and arrived at the door. Ginny rapped on it hard, making the whole thing shake with her powerful knocking.

A couple of moments passed—

The girls stepped back when they heard the door open. Standing before them was the imposing figure of their older Scottish Transfiguration teacher. Ginny noted that her eyes were positively on fire, and strands of grey hair were flying this way and that, as if she had been running all morning long.

"Miss Weasley. Miss Lovegood." McGonagall said quietly. She stepped out of the doorway and checked both directions of the hall.

"Do you have questions about that latest Transfiguration assignment?" McGonagall lowered her head and looked at the two girls in a manner that told Ginny to just nod, which she did, as did Luna. Seeing the coast was clear, McGonagall gave two inconspicuous nods to both girls, indicating they could come into her office. Ginny stepped forward, and heard McGonagall shut the door behind Luna. Then, she heard the soft sound of a girl sobbing.

"This way, girls."

McGonagall led them to a corner of her office, directly in front of the fireplace that Ginny, Hermione, Ron and Harry had traveled through last Christmas. A set of plush chairs were placed near the fireplace, and a table held a tray of sandwiches, chocolates, biscuits and pasties. A steaming pot had been charmed and was already pouring two more cups of tea; cubes of sugar and cream magically dispensed into each cup.

McGonagall gestured for Ginny and Luna to take a seat, which they did. The keening and crying sounds were right next to Ginny, and she looked over to the chair just to her right.

She saw Daphne Greengrass, sitting in a longer loveseat, sobbing huge tears, water trailing down her cheeks and soaking into her robes.

"Daphne?"

"_Oh Merlin_!" Daphne exclaimed. Ginny wasn't sure if she had even heard or seen her and Luna come in. She gasped in between each word, trying to catch her breath through her tears. "He hurt him . . . he told me to do it . . . I just wanted to sting him . . . he hurt him so bad . . . he could've died . . . _he could've died._ . . . " Her voice trailed off to a small, pathetic squeak.

Ginny watched as McGonagall sat beside the Slytherin girl and, in a move surprising from the old witch, she put her arm around Daphne, and gave her a kind squeeze.

"Daphne," McGonagall said, softly, but looking at both Ginny and Luna, "why don't you take a sip of your tea, dear?"

"_He could've died . . . he could've died_ . . ."

Ginny watched as Daphne rocked back and forth, and repeated the same phrase over in that tiny, sad voice. She felt her heart breaking for her.

Over, and over, Daphne couldn't stop saying those words.

McGonagall pointed her wand at the crying girl and, with the most gentle, rolling brogue that Ginny had ever heard from her, uttered, "_Lux Lucis Somnus._"

And Ginny flinched a bit as Daphne shut her eyes and slumped into the arm of the chair, snoring quietly.

"It is unfortunate," McGonagall said quietly, putting her wand down on the table in front of her, "but Miss Greengrass is in too much shock to drink her tea, which had a Calming Draught in it. And with Madam Pomfrey attending to Mister Longbottom, I don't want to make things worse for her by forcing her to go the Hospital Wing." McGonagall pulled a tartan blanket over the girl's shoulders. "I'll allow her to sleep as long as she needs and to compose herself before taking over her Head Girl duties tonight." Turning to Luna and Ginny, she drew her lips together, puckering them as if sucking on a lemon. "I suppose the both of you are here about what happened in the seventh year Dark Arts class?"

Ginny nodded, looking at McGonagall straight on. "Carrow _Crucioed_ Neville." She could feel her anger surfacing, and looking at McGonagall, Ginny thought that the Transfigurations professor was about to burst.

"_Mister _Carrow," McGonagall practically spat and huffed out a tremendous breath of air, "I can only hope, that in the next life, there's a place in which Mister Carrow will experience every _bit_ of what he caused today for an eternity."

Ginny and Luna looked at each other. Even though Ginny was sure both of them agreed with the professor's sentiment, hearing it verbalized was rather shocking for them.

McGonagall looked over at the slumbering, snoring Slytherin. "Miss Greengrass went to the Hospital Wing to check about Mister Longbottom, but was in such a state, that Mister Zabini — quite a surprise, I assure you — brought her to my office and asked if I could talk to her." The Scotsworman shook her head. "The poor girl couldn't stop crying. She wouldn't stop blaming herself about Mister Longbottom. And she's been this way since Mister Zabini left, barely even ten minutes before the two of you showed up." McGonagall nodded to Ginny. "I've already notified your parents, Miss Weasley. I've let them know that I'm watching out for Miss Greengrass."

Ginny was still trying to wrap her head around Daphne's reaction to the class.

"Professor, Carrow _forced_ her to curse Neville. From what everyone's said, it wasn't Daphne's fault! She cast the spell, trying not to hurt him! She had no control over what Carrow was going to do."

"Ginny, I don't think that matters."

Ginny and McGonagall both looked over to Luna Lovegood, who was sitting straight up and had just brought her teacup back down gently onto the saucer.

"Daphne has a very hard time with bad situations. She's really the type of person that would blame herself for things that go wrong, or, well, most recently, fairly catastrophic. She's extraordinarily insecure already."

Luna chuckled at Ginny's face, which was crumpled in disbelief.

"Ginny, I'm really surprised! I mean, you've got Ronald as a brother. They are quite a lot alike."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Luna nodded and smiled in her dreamy Luna way. "I think both Daphne and Ron see such little value in themselves and in what they contribute to the world. When things go bad, and they're right in the middle of it, they're always going to think that the bad things happened because of them." Luna turned her protuberant eyes toward Daphne and smiled a sad smile. "They can't see past their own faults, and _that _becomes their biggest failure." She looked back up at Ginny, who felt a chill as Luna talked about her brother.

"Ron can handle his insecurities better than Daphne though, and it's probably because he has a family around him, and close friends who're there for him. But Daphne, no matter what others do for her, will somehow always feel like an outsider."

Ginny shook her head. "But what d'ya do about that?" She gestured toward Daphne's still sleeping form. "How do you make them feel like they're _not_ an outsider?"

"Simply do what you are doing right now, Miss Weasley." McGonagall answered. "Simply be there for each other." She placed her cup down and took a ginger biscuit. "You must realize that, as much as _I _would like to see changes in our current administration, so long as the _Headmaster_," she wrinkled her nose in disgust, "runs this school, and so long as the Minister remains in power, there's nothing any of the other teachers can do to remove the bad apples on our staff."

Ginny gave her a horrified look. "Not even if they torture us?"

McGonagall shut her eyes, the pain she felt was evident. "It started when they lifted the ban on the Unforgivable Curses." She opened them and watched the flames in the fireplace burn. "The one thing I can do, the _only_ thing, is to be here for the students. To make sure that every student will remain as healthy and safe as possible."

Ginny rubbed her forehead. "Pr-professor . . . what happened in the classroom today?"

McGonagall turned slowly to look at both Ginny and Luna, inhaled very deeply, and proceeded to lay out in detail the incident between Neville and Carrow.

* * *

McGonagall escorted both Ginny and Luna out of her office. Daphne was still sleeping soundly, and McGonagall had sent a message to both Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode, asking for their assistance to bring her back to Slytherin House without drawing more attention to her than was necessary.

As the door shut behind them, Ginny leaned against the wall, pounding her fist against the stone in a steady, but distracted, beat.

"Ginny? What's on your mind?" Luna asked.

She whistled. "I'm just thinking about all of this. What happened with Neville today. What it all means." She threw out her arms and let them hit her sides. "I'm at a total loss! _How? How_ are we supposed to get through this? It's only the second week of school, and look what happened with Neville. Look at how Daphne's dealing with it!" Ginny could hear the frustration, the hopelessness in her voice.

And then, Luna put her hand on her shoulder.

"I heard something a long time ago. '_If you are going through hell, keep going_.'"

Ginny raised an eyebrow at her.

"I think they're words spoken by a Muggle British leader." Luna thought for a few moments. "I know that we're already there, Ginny. In hell. But we have to stay right where we are. We have to learn and go to school like normal, but we also have to watch out for each other. And we all have to make it through this together. Right?"

Ginny lowered her brow, and nodded. What Luna said certainly made sense.

But, _Godric_! There was such a long way to go!

"Ginny? Luna?"

The girls spun around at the sound of their names being hoarsely whispered. Ginny stepped around the corner of a wall. "Michael?"

Michael Corner emerged, looking to his left and right. "Have you seen Daphne? I heard she was here."

Ginny looked at Michael, giving him a small smile full of sympathy. "She's actually resting in McGonagall's office. She's," Ginny searched for the right words, "she's in a bit of a shock right now."

"Shock?" he asked weakly.

Ginny winced sympathetically. "Did you hear what happened? In Carrow's class?"

His brow grew stormier. "I heard that Carrow damn near killed Neville." He shook his head. "Evil bastard."

"Daphne was there, you know?"

Michael's face fell a little. "I know . . . he didn't hurt her. _Wait_! Did he hurt her?" His worried expression nearly knocked her over.

"H-he . . . not exactly. Carrow, um—"

(_Just tell him, Ginny._)

She swallowed and sighed deeply. "Carrow demonstrated the curse on her first, but didn't hurt her." She said rapidly, holding her hands up to keep Michael calm, when it was obvious he was about to explode. "Neville spoke up, and Carrow forced Daphne to _Crucio_ him—"

Michael let out a small breath of shock. "_Damn_ . . ."

"Daphne stung him a little on his hand, not meaning to hurt him—"

Michael's face grew cold and hard. "And that's when—?"

Ginny nodded slowly. "That's when Carrow cursed Neville. Right in front of Daphne. And . . . and she really couldn't handle watching Neville being tortured in front of her. She's blaming herself, and no one's able to get through to her. Not me. Not McGonagall. She's just . . . she's not _here_, she's not functioning right now."

Ginny stopped talking and she watched as Michael's face ran through a motley of emotions. Sadness . . . frustration . . . anger . . . and finally—

Michael spun around, reared back his arm, and rammed his balled-up fist right into the nearest wall three times.

"_Eearargh_!" "_Gah!_" "_Gee-yeargh_!"

Ginny and Luna jumped back at the impact of skin and bone and tissue hitting the stone.

Ginny looked at Michael's fist, and Michael's face . . . and waited for it—

"_Ow_! Oh, owowowowow . . . " He shook his now bruised hand very rapidly, his teeth now gritted in apparent pain. He hopped up and down trying to shake it out and sucked in a breath and blew on his damaged digits. "Ouch! Mother . . . _effin_' . . . _sonofabit_—"

"Well, what d' you expect? Getting all heated, allowing your testosterone to take over." Ginny shook her head, and held out her hand. "Here, let me see the damage."

Michael loudly drew in a breath and he let Ginny examine his injuries. Luna came over and peered at the hand as well.

"Idiot."

"Hey! I was angry."

"Well, I hope you feel better now."

Michael glowered at her. Ginny turned his hand over, a bit too roughly for him. He winced and groaned.

"Sorry."

"You could be a bit more gentle."

She gave him a flat look.

"Michael, we should go with you to the Hospital Wing." Luna interjected.

Gi_n_ny shrugged. "We can update you about Daphne, and go see how Neville's doing."

Michael nodded, holding his bad hand. "Sh-sure, yeah."

They started making their way to the hospital. Michael kept wincing in discomfort and he looked at his hand, taking in the damage.

"I feel like I haven't been there for her."

Ginny shook her head. "What do you mean? Of course you have. You're here now."

"But last year, when she had her breakdown. In June, when Dumbledore died and she basically ran away." He shook his head. "She told me about what happened this summer after your brother got married, and how that bastard Death Eater from the Ministry basically--" Michael's disgusted look on his face finished the sentence for him. "And now this," he flapped his arm uselessly in the direction of McGonagall's office. "I'm never there when she needs me the most."

"You know, this is really sweet."

Michael just stared at Ginny. "What's 'sweet'?"

"You. You getting all angry and huffy and punchy and wanting to be there for Daphne." She spoke to him in a gentle voice. "It's really clear that you care for her, and I really think that _that _alone helps, even if you not physically _with _her when things get rough."

She saw Michael blush. He nodded, but vaguely as if he wasn't letting Ginny's words sink in.

"Ginny," Luna started, "remember what we were talking about in McGonagall's office? About Daphne not feeling like she belonged anywhere?"

She nodded. Michael looked at Luna as if she had just sprouted a pair of wings. "What do you mean, Daphne doesn't feel like she belongs?"

Luna ignored the question, but turned to Michael. "I think if you tell her, it'll help."

"Oh? _Oh_!" Ginny said, nodding in comprehension.

Michael looked at her in confusion. "Tell her what?"

"You should tell her, Michael." Ginny nodded and gave Luna a grin and a wink.

"I'm . . . I'm completely confused." The Ravenclaw boy shook his head rapidly.

Ginny sighed in exasperation. "Luna, I don't have either the strength or the patience. Would you like to enlighten him on what exactly he can do? For Daphne?"

Luna smiled in her dreamy way and she turned to address him. "You should tell her you love her."

And as Luna skipped ahead of them, Ginny stopped walking . . . because Michael had stopped walking.

He had turned roughly the color of a beet.

"I . . . I wh-wh . . . ah . . . her . . . _huh_?"

"You love her, you twit!" Ginny shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Boys!"

"B-but . . . I . . . I'm not—"

"Michael, let me spell it out for you. L, as in all those bloody _letters_ you sent to her this summer. While she stayed at the Burrow. One thing I learned was that if you tried to get her attention when a message came from you, she literally became a flobberworm. Practically immune to outside stimulus."

Michael blushed furiously. Which surprised Ginny as he was already quite red.

"O, as in '_Ouch_!' and '_Ow_!' As in hitting your hand on the wall a stupid number of times because you just found out your girl's in shock because she witnessed something horrible.

"V, as _very _forgiving, as in, no matter what happened between the two of you, you always found her, sought her out, and you made sure she was okay." Ginny looked at him with a maudlin expression. "That's a really new thing for you."

She stopped talking as Michael stood next to her, his face showing that he was working through some thought process.

Michael shut his eyes for a moment, sighed, and opened them back up again.

"Uh, Ginny," Michael began, still blushing furiously, "y'know . . . er, I don't think we really talked about what happened between us, right? W-we never really exchanged words about why we ended. We just . . . _ended_, didn't we?"

She nodded, but added. "I do remember you breaking up with me after that Quidditch game. Because we had just beaten up Ravenclaw. No offense, Luna."

"Oh, none taken!"

Ginny turned back to her ex-boyfriend. "And then, I hear later that you and Cho were all kissy-kissy, so I didn't really think we needed to talk."

Michael opened his mouth, and didn't say anything for a couple of minutes. Finally, with a small nod to himself, he started talking. "About a month before that game, we, er . . . had some alone time, right?"

Ginny smirked and raised an eyebrow. She folded her arms and nodded. "Yeah, we did have quite a bit of alone time, Michael."

"Okay, but this was in a broom closet on the third floor." Michael took a breath. "And, while we were together, you said 'Harry'. While we were snogging."

Ginny's eyes went huge. To her right she heard Luna whisper "Oh!"

She brought a hand to her mouth. "Oh . . . _oh Godric's balls_! Michael, _seriously?!_ I said that?"

Michael nodded.

Ginny smacked her head into her hand, and shook it vigorously. "Oh my stars! I . . . I didn't know!" Ginny held her hands out to him, her brow creased with anger toward him _and_ herself. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well, the first time you did it—"

"Wait, I did it _again_?!"

Michael nodded a second time. "You only did it twice." Ginny groaned, but Michael continued. "I sort of ignored it the first time, but it kind of got to me. Then you did it again, and it _really _got to me, and I decided I needed to be an arse to you." He winced. "I had that fling with Cho, thinking, 'Well, I'll just get with Potter's ex-girlfriend, and I'll win her over _and_ Ginny'll be all jealous'." Michael shook his head, a bit of a morose look on him. "But that didn't work. She was still going through a lot at the time. We wrote a little back and forth, but nothing really came from it."

Ginny groaned a second time. "Michael, I'm . . . I'm really sorry."

Michael shrugged. "It's okay. I should've said something when it happened, and we could've ended on a bit more friendly terms, I s'pose. But," Michael turned back to the direction of McGonagall's office, "there's Daphne now, right? And you have, well . . . I'm not going to say his name, because our walls _do _have ears." He gave her a very knowing look. "But I think it's safe to say that you're taken."

Ginny blushed and smiled.

Michael smiled as well, but after a few moments, his face fell. "Merlin! Daphne . . ." he looked at the two girls. "You two think she'll be all right?"

"We don't know," Luna shook her head.

"Daphne's the first person I didn't give up on," Michael said softly. "I don't know why. But she's funny, she's smart, she's . . . er, _honest_. Almost bluntly so." He snorted and rolled his eyes, but smiled sadly. "I know she's got problems, but," and he looked back up at both Ginny and Luna. "I can't give up on her. I just have to be there for her and . . . I don't know. Help her. Whatever I can do."

Ginny looked at Michael Corner, this time her face wholly and completely serious. "You're really in love with her, aren't you?"

She saw Michael swallow, and his face changed. He made no gesture either way, but he blinked for a long time.

"E!" Luna piped up.

Michael and Ginny just stared at her.

Luna hopped over next to them. "You forgot the 'E' in 'love'. Michael, you'd do _everything_ to make sure she's okay. _Everything_ to make her happy. Wouldn't you?" She smiled at him.

Michael paused, and furrowed his brow. "I- . . . I think I would. I want to be there for anything that she needs, for _everything _. . . " He hesitated, and a small smile threatened to pop up on his face. But, suddenly, he developed a stony look. "And if anyone ever harmed her, or tried to harm her—" He balled up his hand, and, apparently forgetting his prior injuries, slammed his fist into his open palm.

"_OW_-ch! Bloody . . . _fuck_! Buggerbuggerbugger. . . !" Michael stomped his foot on the floor and shook out his once-again throbbing and hurting hand, grimacing in pain.

"Come on, you prat. To the Hospital Wing with you." Ginny stood behind Michael, and pushed him forward, as Luna skipped down the hall, ahead of them by several steps.

* * *

_Dear Diary_,

Ginny paused. So much had happened today, and Ginny found herself at a loss at where to begin.

(_At the beginning, you twit!_)

Ginny sighed. The diary had been nice to write in every once in a while, particularly this summer, when all hell had broken loose.

However, after what had happened with Neville, after finally seeing him in the Hospital Wing and hearing him talk even though he was still in pain . . . after seeing Daphne in the state she was in after the Dark Arts class . . . and especially after her conversation with Michael Corner and realizing her former boyfriend had not only forever moved on, but was, indeed in love (_even if not ready to admit it to himself . . . the prat!_), the diary just didn't seem like it was enough.

Ginny shut the book and closed her eyes.

She took a breath . . .

"Hey! What's a pretty girl like you doing up here all alone?"

Ginny smiled, her eyes still shut. "I thought you were out on your special mission."

"Nah . . . cut it short when I heard there was a beautiful girl here at Hogwarts, pining away for me—"

"Potter!" Ginny gasped as Harry laughed. "I _do not pine_!"

"I know, I know . . . . Lame attempt at humor." He pushed his sliding glasses back up his nose.

Ginny shook her head. "You've got to stop spending all your time with my brother, Harry. His idea of 'humor' is gonna rub off on you. And then you'll really be a lost cause."

Harry laughed . . . and Ginny laughed.

And then she stopped.

"I miss you so much, Harry."

Harry's smile faded away, replaced by a most serious expression. "You've got no idea how much I miss you too."

Ginny licked her lips nervously. "Things are bad. Here, even at Hogwarts. I feel like we're under attack every day!" She looked at him, and could feel several lumps in her throat. "And I can't stop thinking about what the three of you are doing. How you're managing to survive, all by yourselves—"

Harry shrugged. "With Ron and Hermione, I'll be fine, Gin." He looked at her. "Just . . . Ginny, you have to be careful. With what happened to Neville today—"

"Oh, _Godric_!" Ginny hit her head against the headboard of her bed. She let out a shaky breath. "Neville. He's . . . .doing better. But, _dammit_! How the hell are we going to make it out of this year in one piece? And what if the war doesn't end soon?" Ginny shook her head and felt tears gathering in her eyes. "How long will it be before we're all safe again? Before you and Hermione and Ron come back to us? How long do I have to wait for my family to stop fighting and just be a family?"

Harry leaned his head against the wall and continued to look at Ginny. "I wish I had the answers, but I don't."

Ginny watched him through wet eyes. "You just want this to be over—"

"And I'm the only one that can finish it."

Ginny nodded, crying fully now. "I nev- . . . never told you that I love you, Harry."

She watched as Harry responded, first by swallowing, then by flexing the muscles in his jaw. "Y-you love . . . you love—?" He stared at her dumbly and merely pointed a shaky finger to himself.

Ginny rolled her eyes and snickered. "Even in my head, boys still suck with the whole 'feelings' thing, don't they?"

She heard Harry laugh. "We're a very simple species."

Ginny lolled her head back toward him. "I never told you how I fe-feel, Harry. I don't know why. It just," she plopped her hands down in fatigue and frustration and sniffed, "just never seemed right."

Harry nodded.

"But now I re-regret it. I never told you, expressly, how I feel. I haven't spoken to Percy in ages. I never told Hermione that she's already like a sister to me, and I never told Ron enough times that he's worth so much . . . so many, many th-things . . ." She gasped through her tears. "I do love you. I can't be afraid to say that anymore. To say the words, you know?" She shrugged, but continued to weep. "I can't be afraid of anything . . . "

"Ginny," Harry said softly. Ginny held her breath as he brought a hand up to her cheek, and she sighed in disappointment when she couldn't feel him touch her face.

"I'm . . . I'm . . ."

"You're not real," Ginny whispered to him. "You're in my h-head." Ginny felt her shoulders shake in rhythm with her cries. She let her body unfold, and she laid down, fully, spreading her body out on top of her sheets. Ginny folded her hands and rested them on her tummy.

And, taking a deep breath, she turned to Harry–In–Her–Head. "I love you, Harry Potter. I really, really do."

She watched as Harry laid down next to her, propping his head on his arm. "Ginny, I lo—"

"Wait!" Ginny held her hand up. "Don't." She shook her head. "D-don't say it. It's not real if you say it." Ginny let out another sob and wiped at her face. "This is my head, and I'm the one that needs to be honest with myself. So, I'll say it again, H-Harry Potter. I do love you."

She cried, although softer now, as she watched a slow grin appear on his face.

"And I love my brother Percy. I love Ron and Hermione. I love all of my family . . . even," she rolled her eyes, "Muriel. I love Remus and Tonks. I love all of the people that are fighting against this madness.

"But, Harry, I need all of you and all of the Weasleys, to be safe, okay?" Ginny asked him. "You may nod."

Harry did.

"We can get through this right?"

Harry nodded again.

"I'm strong enough to get through this?"

Harry smiled at her. "You could bring down mountains if you wanted to, Ginny."

Ginny nodded and returned his smile and she let herself finally drift away to a sleep filled with tears and dreams of happier times, both in the past and in the unknowable future.


	23. Chapter 22: New Perspectives

**A/N: **A big thanks to stella8h8chang for beta-reading this chapter (as she has the other chapters).

In case anyone was wondering, Luna referred to Aquavirius Maggots in _**H****arry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix**_. They were, apparently, the brains that attacked Ron Weasley in the Dept. of Mysteries. And the football cheer in the last section is "We are the Geordies," for Newcastle Utd. They are, _obviously, _Terry Boot's favorite team (said with tongue firmly in cheek)!

I own nothing. Rated T for strong language.

* * *

**Chapter 22: New Perspectives**

The violent turn Dark Arts had taken really came as no surprise to the students. Nor had the direction that Alecto Carrow had decided to take with Muggle Studies.

Ginny eyed the room in disgust. When Professor Charity Burbage had taught the course, the room had always been filled with odd contraptions, none of which could work since the Muggle alternative to magic — eckeltricity — didn't work in Hogwarts.

But Ginny had always had a smile on her face as she spied telly-fissons and batteries and cords of various lengths in Professor Burbage's classroom. One day, during a unit on Muggle means of communication, she had brought in several different felly-tones for them to play with.

However, Alecto Carrow had made sure that her mark on the curriculum was felt. Ginny had held back a gag as she stared in horror at images of Muggle diseases, injuries, and disfigurements. After the first class, she had had to run into the nearest bathroom to dry heave into the toilet. This time, she remained seated, keeping her eyes firmly on the Ravenclaw sitting directly in front of her. Cosima Ramsay, sixth year Gryffindor prefect and one of Ginny's closest friends in Gryffindor, sat next to her, clutching the sleeve of her robes.

" . . . A savage bunch of animals like Muggles don't care whom they kill or whom they spread their incurable diseases to. They engage in_ incestuous_ behavior, _deviant _behavior_, _violating familial blood bonds, weakening their blood lines. And they force themselves on our kind, taking what isn't theirs in order to spread their diseases and destroy us!"

Ginny's hand shot up in the air; Ursula Beckham and Cosi stared at her in horror; it was the first time a non-Slytherin student had volunteered to say anything in class.

"Professor?" she asked in a cloying voice, "How could Muggles have possibly known about us to destroy us? Isn't there some big, oh, I don't know . . . _International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy_ that prevents Muggles from being aware of our existence?" Ginny narrowed her eyes into daggers, aimed directly at the female Carrow.

Alecto marched right up to her and slapped her across the cheek.

"Did I call on you, _blood traitor_?" She pushed her face towards Ginny, who rubbed at the right side of her face as Cosima and Ursula surrounded her.

She gritted her teeth and stared back at the Death Eater. "I just wanted to clarify _your point. _ Wouldn't want to spread around any inaccurate information." Her cheek still stung, but she kept her unblinking eyes on Carrow.

She sneered at Ginny and turned back around, continuing with her horrible lecture on incurable, debilitating Muggle diseases.

Wednesday morning, at breakfast, Ginny, Seamus, Lavender and Parvati were coordinating schedules so they could visit Neville together during a free period.

Parvati also let them in on the latest bit of news.

"Did you hear?" the Gryffindor prefect leaned forward, her eyes shuffling around the room to make sure no unsavory characters could overhear the conversation. "The Carrows are readying the dungeons again."

Ginny's fork clattered onto her plate. "_No!_" She bit her lip. "They're going to use them for punishments, aren't they?"

Parvati nodded, her eyes big with worry. "Daphne got word to the prefects about it, and she watched them take a whip to Filch, taunting him as they were ordering him around!"

"_Filch_?!" Ginny gaped. "But . . . he's the most likely out of the entire old staff of Hogwarts to actually want to whip and punish the students? Why are they—?"

"Ginny, remember . . . Filch is a Squib." Parvati shrugged hopelessly. "I think that means the Carrows and Snape will use him for target practice as well as whipping the students." She winced. "Padma said she noticed him last night with scars all over his face and he was limping." Parvati drew back up and took a very small bite of her toast. Ginny pushed her plate away. She found herself without appetite.

"Hey, change of subject," Seamus said, trying desperately to lighten the mood, "but when d'ya think we can go visit—"

"Whoa! Neville?"

Seamus stopped talking. There were odd whispers coming from the back of the Great Hall.

"Neville? Is . . . is that . . . ?"

"Wait . . . It _is_ Longbottom!"

"_Neville_!"

The entire Gryffindor contingent of Dumbledore's Army was on their feet first, clapping loudly and fiercely, as Neville Longbottom walked into the Great Hall, face and hands bandaged, but smiling and waving. The rest of Gryffindor stood up only a few seconds later.

Hufflepuff followed, led by their members of the D.A. Ravenclaw got to their feet next, although it was a smaller number; the applause from their table was started by Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, and Padma Patil, and limited only to the sixth and seventh years.

At the Slytherin table, no one stood up. Blaise Zabini merely watched Neville walking into the hall, but with a mild expression on his face. Ginny rather fancied that he looked like he wanted to smile . . . kind of.

Her eyes then fell to one short, dark-haired Slytherin girl, who looked as if she wanted to wither away and die.

Ginny strained to see Daphne Greengrass watch Neville walking down the corridor. And her own eyes grew into saucers as she watched Neville make eye contact with the Head Girl. Neville stopped and turned towards Slytherin's table, making his way over to Daphne.

Daphne remained seated as the Gryffindor stood next to her and leaned over, whispering something. Ginny watched the girl nod several times and Neville patted her on the back. It looked as if Neville squeezed her shoulder once. He smiled as he ended whatever conversation he had had with Daphne. Ginny watched as Daphne wiped at her face as her back and shoulders shook.

And as Neville made his way back to the Gryffindor table, to the group of older Gryffindor students, Ginny caught sight of Amycus Carrow; she realized he was watching Daphne, as she and Neville talked the entire time.

Ginny eyes narrowed suspiciously; there was nothing good that could come out of that.

Once Neville joined the rest of Gryffindor, he turned immediately towards the others. "Since everyone's buzzing now, I think this would be as good a time as any to talk Muggle-borns with them."

They agreed with him, so after dinner on Wednesday, the mass of Gryffindor students, some returning, many of them new, filed in behind him, quiet and attentive, deferring to the seventh years and prefects to lead them to Gryffindor Tower. They arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait. Ginny winced when she saw the guardian of the Gryffindor common room; the Fat Lady eyed the queue nervously.

"P-Pass-_w-word_?" she gulped. Ginny couldn't think of a time when she had looked so scared. Not since her second year, when Sirius Black was still alive and was rumored to have been a murderer. She remembered the Fat Lady hiding in terror when Sirius slashed her portrait trying to break into the Gryffindor boys' dormitory.

Neville pursed his lips together and with a sneer of disgust and responded to her entreaty. "Pure-blood."

"M-my dears," she managed to get out, despite her trembling, "I hope I am not alone in thinking that all of this is quite atrocious!" She opened up to let them in.

The younger Gryffindors moved almost as a single group and waited for the portrait to slam shut. As soon as they heard the final _thud_, the noise levels in the room exploded, every student having something they wanted to ask and say.

"Blimey, Neville! Way to make an entrance!"

"You look like hell, mate!"

"Are you in pain? How bad was it?"

"I can't believe that Greengrass bint! Cursing you in class like she did . . ."

Neville smiled and gestured for them to ask their questions one at a time, wincing with discomfort as he brought his arms up. "Thanks, Ritchie, I'm glad that my entrance was inspiring, to say the least," he rolled his eyes but continued grinning. "And Andrew," he said, chuckling, "I was thinking I got enough beauty sleep, but," he gestured to his face, still bruised and bandaged, and two-day old scruff starting to develop, "I probably need a couple of month's longer—"

Seamus smirked, "I'll bet Abbott wouldn't mind."

"And, yes, Demelza," Neville finished, more somberly, "the Cruciatus was _that_ bad, since Carrow meant to do it. And I don't want anyone to walk away with any misconceptions. Daphne Greengrass _did not _hurt me in any way," he added, raising a finger to them to emphasize his point. "She had to cast the spell on me, but she aimed at my hand, and she could only manage a sting."

Several of the students seemed very surprised about this. "She didn't mean to hex you?"

Neville shook his head vigorously. "One-hundred percent no!"

"She was devastated, in an immense amount of shock when Carrow tortured Neville." Ginny added, and the other Gryffindor seventh years nodded in forceful agreement.

The conversation quickly turned back towards classes, and after a thorough round of abuse of Amycus Carrow, the students began asking questions about Alecto's lesson plans.

"Ginny, the way Alecto Carrow makes it sound, Muggles were savages."

"Yeah, I mean, she's saying that they're cruel. Violating each other, spreading their diseases around."

"People are even saying that they made slaves of each other. Witches and wizards don't treat other magical beings like that!"

"Is it all true? Are Muggles really that cruel?_ That _inhuman?"

The harder questions needed a bit more finesse when answering them. The older Gryffindors cast a large Privacy Charm around the students, in case the portraits in the common room would feel the need to share the information with other portraits around the castle.

"I can't really say that Muggles aren't capable of cruelty, but so are witches and wizards," Ginny offered.

"Look at what happened to me this week," Neville added, shrugging and gesturing to his still-bandaged body. "I'll bet you the witches and wizards who lived through all of our recent wars would say our kind can be violent and bloodthirsty too." He stared at the floor for a few moments, and Ginny didn't have to read his mind to know he was thinking about his parents.

"We can act like a bunch of bloody savages!" Seamus piped up, nodding.

The older Gryffindors involved with the D.A. then steered the conversation towards the war, Muggle-borns, and they talked up Daphne's articles. The conversations resonated with the students too; Daphne's approach in writing the pamphlets, mixing the information with her own brand of humor and plain-spoken style drew the more curious and less judgmental of the students in first.

"Holy shite!" Ritchie Coote exclaimed to the same group. "If all this is really true, that 'The Healer' actually manipulated his research to reach those conclusions about Muggle-borns, then . . . _then—_"

Parvati nodded. "Then all the ideas that are being talked about by the Ministry, everything the Carrows and Snape believe in, is _one-hundred percent_ _false_!" She emphasized the last phrase.

Geoffrey Hooper, widely regarded to be the brightest Gryffindor of the fifth years (as well as a bit of a whiner) rubbed his chin. "His research didn't even come close to proving that Muggle-borns aren't naturally magical, did it?" He shook the parchment. "I mean, you can't just say these results are typical when Healer Stallsworth messed around too much with the blood samples."

Vicky Frobisher nodded, her eyes planted on the parchment. She started smiling as she read aloud from her favorite part. "I like this part from, er . . . Miss Mouse, I guess it is . . . '_Going through the extensive pile of research that disproves Stallsworth's conclusions, a disturbing trend appears. Several of the maligned Sanguigeneticists that spoke out against Stallsworth anti-Muggle-born research appeared to have something in common with each other. See if you can figure it out . . ._'" Vicky's eyes scanned down the list. She smirked, shook her head, and passed the paper to Demelza Robins, who then read the names out loud.

"'_Healer Catherine Wise . . . Blood Researcher and Historian Vera Sagemore . . . Healer Willa Coffrey_ . . .'" Demelza nodded and shrugged. "Well, I guess in the Healing Arts, the standards of respect are different for you if you're a witch, huh?"

Lavender, Parvati and Ginny all snorted derisively at the observation. As did Vicky.

"My mum's a General Healer at St. Mungo's, and it's been one of her biggest complaints!" she added with a sigh. "She's been trying to get articles published in several Healing journals, but they won't accept her work, no matter how accurate it is or how hard she's worked on it." She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head in frustration.

"These witches _and_ wizards all tried to bring attention to the errors in the Healer's research and methodology, but they've never had the exposure or attention that Stallsworth had." Neville spoke up, at first softly, but his voice grew stronger and more confident as he continued.

"It's barmy, innit?" Seamus asked, nodding.

"Take it from us," Neville said, looking at the other Gryffindors, "this is only scratching the surface." He pointed at the document. "There's a lot more where that information comes from."

"Heh." A couple of boys chuckled. "'Lord _Sloth_ _Rectum_!'"

Ginny grinned. "See if you can come up with any better names for You-Know-Who. And tell others that you trust, okay? Tell other students that you think might be open to listening to actual facts than those awful lies." She smiled as she watched the groups continue to read the pamphlets, asking for questions and clarification when necessary.

Even better was _The Quibbler_.

Between the many articles discussing the reality of the war, the latest casualties, and various opinion pieces, all pondering the whereabouts of Harry Potter and rallying support for Undesirable Number One, Friday's edition had printed a slightly edited version of Daphne's _The Sedition Act_ article, giving the publication's _Awareness Award_ to the anonymous "Nonnie Mouse" for . . .

"For uncovering the truth behind the natural magical capabilities of Muggle-borns, not that anyone here at _The Quibbler _thought otherwise!" Luna chirped brightly. "I did give Father a version with Daphne's more _colorful_ descriptions of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named changed slightly."

Ginny leaned forwards, narrowing her eyes. "Lord _Aquavirius_ _Maggots_?"

The Ravenclaw nodded. "I know they resemble brains, but they're particularly nasty and slimy things. And they smell rather like month-old fish sitting outside in the summer."

Ginny grimaced and shivered in disgust. She knew all too well what _that_ smelled like, as Fred and George had once tossed a trout into Ron's treehouse during a sweltering July a few years ago.

Throughout the week, Ginny started to realize that the one good thing to come out of Carrow torturing Neville was that all of Dumbledore's Army now had a renewed energy to talk to as many of the younger students as they could about the first issue of _The Sedition Act_. And she smiled as she started hearing reports from others about Daphne's pamphlets, listening as several of the students started replacing You-Know-Who with nicknames like Lord _Turd Blossom_ and Lord _Niffler Poo_.

(_Daphne always did have a way with the English language!_)

Ginny had also found herself preoccupied with another duty; she had been appointed Quidditch Captain by McGonagall, and she thought it would behoove her to at least attempt to put together a decent team.

"Okay, so tryouts are this Saturday." Ginny tacked a parchment announcing when and where and what spots they were looking to fill. She had decided that, if Quidditch was to be played this year, then she was going to take over the spot as Seeker, since she had had enough experience playing that position in the past.

Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke had both asked at the very beginning of the year whether the Quidditch season was on. However, Ginny was rather reluctant to say anything to them about it.

(_They _had_ made a right troll's buttocks out of things the past few seasons!_)

Ginny had been particularly excited about Demelza's return. Her talents as Chaser had only improved during last year's season, as she had worked hard to compensate for the injuries suffered by Katie Bell from the cursed necklace.

Plus, it was nice to keep the female contingent on the team going as much as possible, what with Angelica, Alicia and Katie having already left Hogwarts. One of Ginny's goals for the team this year was to recruit more witches to play.

Parvati and Lavender came over to read the parchment that Ginny had just posted.

"Will we be seeing you on the pitch Saturday?" Ginny asked, a smirk almost popping out of her face. She couldn't imagine either girl signing up for the sport; Hermione constantly joked that her dorm-mates would never dare engage in any activities that might cause them to break or lose a nail.

But she had noticed once school had begun, Parvati's nails, as well as her and Lavender's faces and hair, seemed more natural these days. They would usually wear their hair in loose plaits and ponytails, and would forego their usual Glamour Charms and other Beautification Spells.

Ginny reckoned that that was all due to the fact that Amycus Carrow had kept leering at them from lunchtime until dinner on their first day. The lasciviousness of his stares was enough for them to put their guards up and, from then on, they made sure that they gave him no invitation to single them out of the group.

Parvati carefully read the parchment. "I'm thinking about it this year." She nudged her head toward her best friend. "But you couldn't get Lavender up on a broom—"

"Hey! Can I help that I'm afraid of heights?"

Parvati giggled. "But," she shrugged, "maybe organized sports would be just the thing to keep my mind off of the nasty stuff going on around here. Doing something that wasn't related to the war, to these creeps, might be exactly what we need, you know?"

Ginny nodded. "Have you played or flown before? Are you any good?" she asked the older girl.

She nodded. "I'm a fair flier. Only thing is that I'm not sure how I'll handle a bunch of balls being thrown in my face—"

Lavender laughed so hard she snorted. "I th-think you'll be just fine with having a _bunch_ of b-_balls_ in your _face_!" And she continued to laugh and snort.

Parvati just glared at her friend. "Oh, for Circe's _sake_! _Really_?!" She shook her head, "You've been with Seamus far too long, Lav." Rolling her eyes, Parvati turned back to Ginny. "Please excuse Lavender as she extracts her mind from the gutter." Lavender wiped the tears of hysterics from her eyes. "So, ten o'clock Saturday on the pitch then?"

Ginny nodded. "Yup! Last one to the pitch is a rotten doxy egg!"

She smiled and wriggled her eyebrows at Parvati . . . and just shook her head in amusement as Lavender tried to compose herself.

* * *

Daphne Greengrass was fuming.

It was Friday night, once again, and she was forced to show her angry, furious face at the weekly meeting in the Headmaster's office.

With Snape and Draco "Troll-Head" Malfoy.

As she walked up the steps, she wondered if either wizard would be wise if she decided to cast a Bludgeoning Hex directly to their buttocks.

"What the fucking hell's your deal, Greengrass?" Malfoy hissed at her, just before the gargoyle swirled up to reveal the staircase to the Headmaster's office.

Daphne hissed right back. "I'm sick of this shit! All these bloody games . . . that Carrow bastard _tortured Neville!_" She practically spat in Malfoy's face. "Don't tell me that didn't get to you, _Draco_. Don't tell me that, whatever you think about Neville or Gryffindors, there's not a part of you that didn't feel for him."

He snorted. "The fat oaf could barely tolerate it—"

Daphne swerved and rammed her body into Malfoy's. She pointed her wand at his crotch. With a sort of wicked glee, she saw him tremble and turn white.

"Say – that – _again_, Malfoy," she threatened, "I'll see if _you_ _can_ tolerate it. And trust me," she said, pushing her wand into his trousers, "this time I'll _mean_ it!"

He composed himself and pushed her away. "Don't fool yourself, Greengrass," he sneered. "That wasn't the first time I had seen the Cruciatus performed up close." He looked up the stairs. "We're expected to build a tolerance to it," and his matter – of – fact tone sent chills up Daphne's spine, "and we're expected to have a very _intimate_ relationship with it."

She narrowed her eyes and watched him swallow. "Bet you loved casting it too. Bet you loved making your victim writhe in pain—"

Suddenly, Malfoy raged toward her, slamming his hand into the wall behind her head.

"_Try -_ _my -_ _mother_!"

Daphne's breath caught in her throat as Malfoy, now enraged, bore his eyes into her; she could almost feel them digging through her brain. "That was _my _punishment! For not killing Dumbledore with my own hands! '_Narcissa_,' he hissed, and my mother stepped forward . . . '_kneel before your son_'."

Daphne shivered at the coldness of Draco Malfoy's voice as he imitated You – Know – Who.

"'_Draco_', he said again," and Malfoy sneered as he continued to speak in the Dark Lord's voice, "'_it is necessary for you to learn from your mistakes. It pains me to do this, but know that this-sss-_sss'," Malfoy's high-pitched voice slithered out from between his teeth, "'_this is_ _punishment for your human weakness_'."

"Dr-Draco," Daphne stammered, shaking and sympathetic. "I'm . . . I'm—"

Draco Malfoy looked at her, sucked in a breath, and tore his hand away from the wall. He turned away and said nothing.

"Sorry," Daphne managed to squeak out after a moment.

Malfoy kept his back to her. "Whatever," he muttered to the floor, and continued walking up the stairs, towards the door to the office.

Daphne Greengrass was still shaken as she stopped just behind Draco Malfoy. It was a new feeling from her for the Slytherin boy — compassion. It was scary that, for this brief, infinitesimal amount of time, she actually felt real sympathy for him.

But the rage she had felt earlier came flooding back as she stood face-to-face, once again, with Snape.

"_Wel_-come," he drawled, and extended his hand so the pair of them could enter his office.

So, Miss Greengrass, Mister Malfoy," Snape began, in that infernally unfeeling voice, once Daphne and Malfoy had gotten settled, "r-rrr-report, _please_."

Before Malfoy could open his mouth, Daphne let loose her fury and rage on behalf of Neville Longbottom, and her own shock from participating in the demonstration, all on the former Potions Master.

"How _dare _you!"

Snape merely cocked an eyebrow, nonplussed. "Problem, Miss Greengrass?"

Daphne shot up out of her chair, the "_tsk!_" from an exasperated Malfoy barely registering. "How can you let this happen? The _Carrows_?! You know what they did to Neville!" Her fury was increasing, due to the fact that Snape remained, inexplicably, calm. "You _know_, and yet you do nothing!"

Snape looked at her, his face cold and impassive.

Daphne shook her head, and she walked toward him. Snape remained planted to his spot, his expression still blank.

"Just explain it to me . . . _sir_." Daphne gritted her teeth; she was certain they'd fall out of her head in a puff of dust. "Explain it to me like I'm bloody twelve. Why . . . are . . . you . . . allowing . . . this? _Sir_!"

Snape only rolled his eyes and shook his head. His expression remained stony.

Daphne wanted his head to burst open. She wanted to throw something at it.

Almost, as if reading her mind, Snape let a small, sarcastic grin spill across his face. "So, just to get this straight; you _don't _see the educational value in demonstrations of the Cruciatus Curse on a human target? _Given_ these . . . particular timess-_sss_?"

It was his final rolling "S" that sent Daphne over the edge. Perhaps hearing Malfoy imitate You – Know – Who and hearing Snape speak in that specific moment, pushed her too far. She stared at Snape with daggers in her eyes and she shook all over, wholly immersed in her fury.

"I shouldn't have expected anything less from a _murderer_!"

It was as if time stopped . . . and not in the same way that time stopped when Michael Corner kissed her. She heard a sharp intake of breath from Malfoy, and, finally, it was as if she had found the magic phrase that would make Snape react.

He bared his teeth and his face grew red. He shoved his face into hers. "You and Potter! Two _ignorant_ peas in a pod, the both of you are!" He flipped his wand in front of her face. "With one flick of this wand, I can make you _ob-sol-eet_!" He spat the word through his teeth. "I can make you forget who you are, I can make you relive your _worst nightmares_, over and over again." He growled and pivoted toward his desk, slamming himself down into his chair.

Just to his right, almost in front of her, Daphne saw a small bit of parchment fall from Snape's sleeve; it appeared to have some swoopy, loopy handwriting that looked like it came from a woman's hand swirling about on it. And a name that looked like "Lily"—

"So, what do we _do_, about this?"

Daphne's head snapped back up toward Snape.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do about what?"

Just to her left, Draco rolled his eyes.

Snape folded his fingers together, creating five long and elegant peaks which he pressed against his face. He appeared to take no notice of the piece of parchment that had just fallen from his sleeve.

"I fear for the students that share your attitude, _Miss_ Greengrass. First, Mister Longbottom makes an ill-advised attempt at talking back to Professor Carrow, and not showing him the proper respect that a _professor . . . deserves_."

Daphne opened her mouth to protest. Snape's hand flew into the air, stopping her from speaking further.

"And then, he is celebrated for his insolence." Snape shook his head. "Your outburst in my office today, Miss Greengrass, tells me that there is widespread discord among the student body toward wizards like the Carrows."

"What the hell do you expect?!" Daphne resisted the urge to fly at him and strangle him with her bare hands. "_They torture the students!_ They teach us things that are wrong! They want to see all the Muggles and Muggle-borns—"

"Miss – Greengrass – you – will – shut – your – trap – and – let – me – finish – or – I'll – make – sure – you – regret – it!" Snape shot back up into the air, and stared Daphne down. "_There_ – _fore_," Snape said, his eyes thin, little slits, his teeth, once again, bared, "I will make an announcement that, starting on Monday," and he turned to include Malfoy in the conversation, "all disciplinary decisions and proceedings shall come under the power of Amycus and Alecto Carrow."

"_No_!"

"Yes, Miss Greengrass, for I believe that discipline and order _must _be maintained at this school, and what better way to make sure the students follow the rules than to put my two strictest disciplinarians in charge." Snape calmly bowed his head to Daphne; she felt the desire to choke him to death grow. "You and Mister Malfoy shall inform the prefects and give the rest of the student body a bit of forewarning about the announcement. I'm sure," he said, turning a wise and knowing eye to Daphne, who stood up, outraged at his decision, "that you will find some way of telling the others."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, but she was far too angry to notice.

"_No_ _way_ does—"

"Headmaster," Draco interrupted her. "Since you've made your _decision_," and he looked over at Daphne, with a smirk, "might we go ahead and proceed with our weekly reports?"

To Daphne's disgust, Snape smiled, a slimy, creepy grin, and nodded toward the would-be Death Eater.

However, his focus on Malfoy allowed Daphne a better look at the bit of parchment that had fallen to the floor, unknown to Snape. She read the writing in full—

_. . . could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald, I think her mind's going, personally!_

_Lots of love,_

_Lily_

Daphne furrowed her brow.

(_Lily?_)

(_Who's Lily?_)

(_And why did Snape have this scrap of parchment up his sleeve? Or so close to him . . . _)

He held out a hand towards Malfoy—

And Daphne's attention returned to the meeting as she heard Snape talk.

"Mister Malfoy . . . _proceed_."

* * *

"I made a right pig's ear out of things!"

"Daphne, don't think about it anymore, all right?" Michael Corner said, squeezing her around her shoulders. "I'll bet you all the Galleons at Gringotts that Snape was heading in that direction anyway. Besides," he jogged around to face her, walking backwards at her pace, "you should rein it in around him. Don't try to goad him."

"Mike's right, as odd as that is." Terry Boot jogged toward his friend, with a smirk on his face and jabbed him in the side. Michael scowled, but proceeded to punch Terry playfully on the arm. The two boys jumped about while Daphne and Luna Lovegood walked on. Daphne watched Michael and Terry take turns hitting and wrestling each other as Luna looked at interesting clouds in the sky.

The four teenagers had met up and walked down to the Quidditch pitch. They were going to catch the tail end of the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts and stay for Ravenclaw's, which would follow immediately after. Plus, they agreed that this was a good opportunity to get out of the oppressive atmosphere Hogwarts had become over the past two weeks.

"Where's Anthony?" Daphne asked Michael. "You two are hardly ever without him."

Michael snorted. "He's working on doing a couple of Potions essays and starting work ahead on Sprout's N.E.W.T.S. assignments. Sometimes, he gets into the—"

"The 'Goldstein Zone'," Terry finished.

"The Goldstein Zone?" Daphne creased her brow.

Michael nodded. "It's where all talk about athletics and music and girls can't seem to penetrate his brain because he's so focused on his assignments that not even the prettiest day in the whole world of days can drag him out of his cubicle in the library."

Terry sniggered. "Or even Lavend—"

Michael nudged and shushed his friend. "Shut it, you twat!"

She was both too morose and too distracted with thoughts about the Carrows, Snape, and the mysterious Lily, the name on that little piece of parchment that Snape had kept so close to him. Unable to laugh or fully pay attention to Michael and Terry's conversation, Daphne kicked a stone that rolled and hit Terry Boot in the arch of his foot.

Terry shoveled the stone with his toes and juggled it like a football.

She snickered at him, forgetting for one moment that she was currently pissed off at Snape and herself _and_ pondering the curious "Lily" situation. "Do you play, Terry?"

"Huh? Oh!" Terry came back to his surroundings. "Nah, not really. Only for fun."

Michael rolled his eyes. "If 'only for fun' means waking me, Tony, and Tony's brother up as soon as the sun rises, and making one pair of us Newcastle United and the other pair Sunderland!"

"Oi! Sunderland's nothing but a bunch of pussies! _PUSSIES_!" Terry exclaimed.

Michael snorted and grinned at Daphne and Luna. And then he took a running start at Terry, clapping and chanting—

"_WE ARE THE GEORDIES_!"

"_THE GEORDIE BOOT BOYS_!" Terry thumped his chest. He jumped on Michael's back and they were both hopping and shouting ferociously.

"_FOR WE ARE MENTAL_ _AND WE ARE MAD_!" Both boys yelled together, Michael spinning a frenzied Terry Boot around, who was practically dislocating his shoulder, waving his arms about.

"_WE ARE THE LOYALEST SUPPORTERS THE WORLD HAS EVER HAD_!" Michael and Terry finished, with Terry dismounting in a spectacular leap and somersault; they pounded their chests and howled like two werewolves during mating season.

Daphne guffawed and shook her head, completely amazed. "Cocks o' the North, the both of you!"

Luna simply stared at them with a bemused expression. "Why did you refer to Sunderland as a girls' body part? I mean it's quite clear that you like girls, Terry. So, I'm just wondering why you refer to the team that you don't like as a body part of something that you do like?"

Michael and Daphne laughed and snorted as Terry stared at Luna with a rather dumb expression.

"Er, well, . . . It's kinda what we . . . do? Err . . . tra-tradition?" Terry stammered.

Luna shook her head but smiled. "If I were a fan of a team I'd make sure to refer to their rivals as something _awful_! Like, hmm . . . Slashkilters, probably." She hummed as if thinking about something. "Maybe something like, 'You're all a bunch of sucking Slashkilters!' And see, it works, because Slashkilters have approximately ten different suction cups. And they like to prey on nice things like unicorns and pygmy puffs, literally feasting on the brains of the innocent!"

Terry just continued to stare at her, while Daphne and Michael were in stitches.

"I mean, it simply doesn't make sense. From what you mentioned last year, you really liked it when Su Li let you touch —"

"_Okay_! Okay, Luna," Terry said, jumping and holding his hands out to stop her before she could get any further. "We really, _really _don't have to bring this up."

Luna shrugged.

"Wait, that's not fair!" Daphne moseyed up to the Ravenclaw girl. "C'mon Luna . . . spill the beans on ol' Boot!"

"Hey!"

Daphne shrugged and raised an eyebrow at him, smirking in a very cocky way.

As Terry fumed and just before Luna opened her mouth to answer Daphne, a number of screams and yells arose from the Quidditch pitch, but they were clearly not of the cheering type. The four teenagers looked at each other, and started running towards the scene.

"Aren't the Gryffindor tryouts," Daphne puffed, "still going on?"

Michael nodded as he ran. Another series of screams tore through the air.

It sounded like somebody was being attacked.

Michael and Daphne looked at each other, worry evident all over their faces. Terry was the first to reach the pitch, followed by Michael and Daphne and Luna.

There, in front of them, were the two Carrows, who had their wands pointed at two students, who were lying on the ground, writhing in pain. Madam Hooch was lying on the ground, a short distance away, knocked out cold. Ginny Weasley was in an uproar. She had just taken a run at Alecto, who was laughing cruelly. Ginny was trying to shake her off of the students, crying in fury and anger. Alecto had thrown her off, in a surprising show of strength, continuing to use the Cruciatus Curse on Jack Sloper. Amycus had Seamus Finnigan in the clutches of the Cruciatus as well.

The stands were empty, as the Gryffindors and the couple of Hufflepuffs who had come to watch the tryouts poured onto the field, yelling in a collective fury.

Amycus, lifted his wand, removing the curse from Seamus. Alecto followed suit.

"_Sonorous_!" Amycus' voice echoed over the Quidditch pitch. The students gathered around the contorted forms of Hooch, Seamus and Jack.

Daphne grasped Michael tightly around his upper arms, watching from just around his left side.

"_Let it be known_," Amycus said in a booming voice, "_that any student who dares to disrespect, to insult not only the beliefs held by both my sister and myself, but also our families, shall be punished most severely. It does not matter where you are. We will find you._" Amycus removed his wand from his throat. With a nod to his sister, he exited from the grounds of the pitch.

Daphne, Michael, Terry and Luna all ran over to join the crowd, and to find out what happened.

Lavender was the first to make it over to Seamus, who, with great effort, was finally sitting up. Ginny and Parvati and Demelza Robins reached Jack, who was having a harder time coming around. Neville went to check on Hooch, trying a couple of spells to wake her.

Shaking out his arms and head, and giving an almighty groan, Seamus looked up at Daphne, Michael, Terry and Luna.

"Lavender, what happened?" Daphne asked Seamus' girlfriend.

"Well, the _idiot_," Lavender gestured angrily to Seamus, who was still shaking his head, "thought that telling Carrow that if he's so obsessed with blood and stuff, he should go shag his sister." Lavender continued to glare at him. "While on his bloody broom!" She looked at Daphne and the others. "Jack laughed and gave Seamus a high-five. The Carrows cursed both of them while they were in the air and, when Madam Hooch tried to intervene, she got knocked out as well."

"Seamus!" Daphne interjected angrily, "you should know better than that. You shouldn't talk back to the Carrows. It just invites them to attack you!"

"Talk first," Seamus said with a grunt. "Think later."

Michael chuckled. Daphne swatted him on the arm.

"What?"

"Don't encourage him!" She jabbed a finger in the air. "And don't get any ideas yourself!"

Seamus shook his head, trying to clear it once and for all.

"Well, no one's told me the most important bit of all."

Seamus gave Lavender a most serious expression. Lavender leaned forward, her face earnest and waiting.

"What, Seamus? What is it?"

Seamus bent towards Lavender and took her hand into his.

"Did I at least make the team?"


	24. Chapter 23: Potterwatch and Plans

**A/N: **Thanks to stella8h8chang for the beta-read and for helping with some of the more awkward parts of sentences and all that. You really do rock in so many ways. And the idea of calling Hufflepuffs "'Puffs" came from my buddy respitechristopher, from his lovely next-gen _The Mercury Chronicles_ stories. Go. Read. Now. (er . . . after you've finished reading my chapter!)

I own nothing. A little bad language here and there. If you haven't read it yet, please check out my _Living in Hell_ series, updated today as well. It focuses on Dumbledore's Army, and each piece is inspired by a song (they aren't songfics, strictly speaking). There are many thematic and characterization similarities between _LiH _and this work. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 23: **_**Potterwatch**_** and Plans**

(_Snape has part of a letter written by a "Lily"._)

(_Why would he have only a piece of torn parchment and not the whole thing?_)

(_And who is this Lily and what does she have to do with Snape? Were they close? How close were they?_)

"_Dammit_!"

"Seamus," Neville said warningly. "Get focused, mate. We're supposed to be practicing."

Seamus' shouting and Neville's reprimand startled Daphne out of her reveries about the scrap of parchment she had found in Snape's office. She stuffed the parchment on which she had written the words she saw on the letter into her book bag and locked the latches.

"Well, that bastard Snape's done it this time!" Seamus fumed to anyone in the Room of Requirement that would listen to his rants.

Ginny rolled her eyes, while continuing to tune the wireless and muttering several different passwords. "Well, just remember, you _did _actually make the team, Shay."

Seamus sighed. "Doesn't do me a whole lot of good when that feckin' barse bans the whole season!" Lavender Brown cooed at him, trying to soothe his temper.

"Shay . . . why don't you channel some of that Quidditch frustration toward, oh . . . I don't know . . . _practicing defense_. So you can say you got a decent amount of spell work in today and then you can Duplicate more of the parchments from the library after _Potterwatch _ends."

Seamus grumbled in response to Lavender's suggestion, but jogged back out into the center of the room to join Neville and his group.

The D.A. was once again meeting in the Room of Requirement. Ginny had received notice, through a carefully worded letter from Fred and George, that they anticipated their next episode of _Potterwatch _to be transmitted this evening. Neville asked Daphne and several others to use this time to start work on Duplicating the research from the Hogwarts' library's parchment archive. And a small group were with Neville and Seamus, starting on dueling exercises and protective charms. After _Potterwatch _finished, the groups would switch duties.

Daphne picked up another sheet, about to charm it, when someone tapped her on her shoulder.

"These were a really good idea."

It was Hannah Abbott. Hannah had gone for her water, taking a quick break from the defensive exercises, as were Ernie Macmillan and Blaise Zabini.

"Er . . . uh, thanks . . . wait, what was a good idea."

Hannah wiped her brow. "_The Sedition Act_. Daphne, you had all the Badgers laughing but they still listened to us talk about all the stuff with the Blood Researchers, the Sanguigeneticists." She gave Daphne a really bright smile. "They wanted to read more and more, because they were laughing, but they were also learning too. We've started calling You-Know-Who Lord _Dung-bomb_ and Lord _Rottencrotch_! Making his name a joke seemed to have lessened their fears about him."

"Oh, well, that's what I was going for when I wrote the thing out," she mumbled with a humble shrug. "Something I learned from working with Fred and George this summer." She gave Ginny a wink.

Hannah sighed. "That's something that Professor Lupin taught us, with Boggarts and _Riddikulus._" She got a very "Luna-esque" expression on her face. "To laugh in the face of our worst fears."

"You and Lupin," Susan Bones rolled her eyes and chuckled. "I will say," she sat up straight and bit her lip, looking like she very much didn't want to laugh, "it may not be my sense of humor. But I can't deny that it feels good to call _him_ those names!"

Daphne grinned in response.

"We should consider making twice as many of the pamphlets then, Daphne."

To her shock, it was Anthony Goldstein, sitting across from her, who had made the suggestion.

"Anthony? A-are . . . uh, you serious?"

He nodded. "I think that the students really seem to be receptive to what you've written," he let himself briefly chortle — once — and he promptly fell back into a more serious demeanor, "or at least how you've chosen to write it."

"Thanks for that ringing endorsement Goldstein."

Anthony stared at her. "I'm doing my best, _Daphne_."

"Bollocks!" Seamus smacked his hand on the table. All eyes turned towards him. "It just _sucks_, y'know?" The Irish lad fell back in his chair. "We've got all this shit fallin' apart all around us, and they take away Quidditch, the _one _thing that could've made us feel like we're normal students. Goin' to a normal school!"

"Well, if that _normal_ school's all magical, then yeah. I agree with you there." Michael nodded from the middle of the room.

Seamus just looked at them and sighed. "I just wanted somethin' to take m' mind off of everything."

Hannah Abbott looked over at him, her jaw tightening. "I understand." She fiddled with her quill. "Doesn't ever feel like we're gonna ever get out of this, does it?"

He shook his head. "Feels like we're stuck. Like muddy sows, rollin' around in a whole buncha dirt and shite."

"I felt the same too," Hannah responded, but quieter this time, "during last year. When I lost my mum."

Neville Longbottom looked over towards the blonde Hufflepuff. "At least you had friends who helped you out, right? Wrote you letters every once in a while . . . letting you know they were here for you?"

Daphne and Ginny both noticed Neville blushing. Their heads ping-ponged back to Hannah, who was smiling a little bit, but whose face was quite red as well.

They both appeared to know something that they weren't telling anyone else.

Daphne noticed Blaise Zabini taking a break from the dueling exercises as well; he took his break, having a very intense conversation with Ernie Macmillan.

"—You haven't seen . . . what was his name?"

"Edward. Edward Macmillan."

Blaise allowed a very small smile to emerge on his face. "Edward's a good name." He looked at Ernie. "You haven't seen Edward in two years?"

The Hufflepuff shook his head. "He's been forbidden to ever step foot in our house, or speak to me, lest they think he'll corrupt me with — oh, what did Mum and Dad say? — 'his _perversion_ and _deviancy'_ . . . just because he wanted to marry another wizard." Ernie snorted contemptuously. Daphne watched as Ernie's face shifted and he struggled with something. "He's my brother, you know? I miss him a lot."

Blaise nodded at the Hufflepuff, making no other gesture or comment.

In the middle of the room, a small commotion was brewing.

"Terry! Dammit," Parvati huffed. "You're pissing me off!"

They all looked over towards the center of the room. Although a few of the dueling group were taking a break from spell work, Terry, Parvati, Michael and Luna were still going at it, practicing dueling spells.

However, the dueling exercises wasn't as productive as they could've been. Terry had decided to focus all of his spell work on Parvati, making sure to hit her with _Rictusempra_ an ungodly number of times. Terry was greatly amused by it, while Parvati was seething . . . after she got over her laughing fit from being ingraciously tickled.

It was making her spell work quite shoddy.

"Oh, come on, Patil! _Gryffindor up, _girl!" Terry laughed and put his hands on his hips.

Ginny chuckled and winced. She muttered, "Oh no!" as Parvati narrowed her eyes, gritted her teeth and flicked her wand.

"_Lubricatus_!"

The floor underneath Terry's feet suddenly became shiny.

"Wh-whoa – whoa – _who-oooa-aaa_!" His feet flew out from under him, and Terry did half-a-back flip, landing smack dab on his buttocks.

"Hah! I win, _Terry_!" Parvati leaned over to him to gloat and she did a little dance to celebrate her victory. "Ha ha — _WHOA_!"

It was a mistake of her Gryffindor bravado, because Terry had grasped her around her waist and she slid right onto the spell-slickened spot. Parvati's feet flew up into the air, and she landed directly on his chest.

"_Terry Boot_!" she puffed out. "You . . . _you . . ._"

"So much pride," Terry laughed. "So little balance!"

Ginny yelped. "Shut it! Shut it! I've got _Potterwatch_!" She swirled her hands about, beckoning everyone to gather around the wireless.

"Ginny, what was the password?" Daphne asked, immediately dropping her quill.

Ginny looked up. "It was 'Sirius'." And she gave Daphne a smile and a wink, which the Slytherin girl returned.

The others were filling in just behind them. Parvati kept having to shove Terry Boot, who was using his body to block her from the table.

"Oh Godric! Terry . . . come on! Let me through."

"Sorry. Can't hear you." Terry bent over. "You're too short. My ears can't reach that low."

Parvati made a sound like a tea kettle reaching its boiling point. "I'll Enlarge your ears so you'll be able to hear me _yelling at you_! All the time. Twenty-four _bloody _seven!"

Terry just smirked at her. "I've got something you can Enlarge—"

"_Quiet! _The both of you," Ginny whispered harshly.

Padma just stared at her twin sister and her fellow Ravenclaw. "Children!" she huffed.

Everyone, finally, turned their full attentions to the wireless.

" . . . And so, to our loyal, and, hopefully _safe_, listeners, allow me to re-introduce myself. My name, for the purposes of this broadcast, is River. For our female listeners, I am also quite the swarthy fellow, muscular, and, presently, single."

Ginny and Daphne chortled and shook their heads.

"What an _idiot_!" Ginny said.

"Who is that, Ginny?" Susan Bones asked.

"It's Lee Jordan."

The members of Dumbledore's Army laughed and clapped and cheered. So loud were they that Ginny had to shush them, gesturing for them to be quiet with her hands.

"Actually," came an all-too familiar voice over the wireless, "River is stringy, rather goblin-sized, and a bit smelly too . . . mate, did you shower today?"

"It's Fred . . . er, I think," Ginny said, her excitement giving way to a wee bit of confusion.

"Shut it, _Rodent_!"

Fred groaned audibly. "We're gonna have a little talk about _that _name later. So, let's introduce our lovely, but somewhat less-attractive staff of contributors. We have Romulus—"

"Hello to all of our listeners."

"Oh my gosh! Professor Lupin!" Hannah exclaimed.

"How can you tell?" Susan Bones asked her.

"Sue, you _know _he's my favorite professor! I'd know his voice anywhere." Hannah swatted at her friend. "I had such a crush on him. _So dreamy!_" Hannah said in a faraway manner. Neville choked on his water.

"And, also with us tonight is Royal."

Out came Kingsley Shacklebolt's booming voice. "Once again, I wish a big hello and best wishes for the safety of all Muggle-borns out there."

"Ginny . . . is that—?"

Ginny nodded. "That's gotta be Shacklebolt." Daphne nodded and gave a "thumbs up".

"We also have with us, Roar."

"Hello, and I want to make sure to tell all my loved ones everywhere, whether they be on the European mainland, in Britain, or in Scottish castles, that we're safe and we love all of them."

Daphne grasped Ginny's hand. "That's Bill! Ginny . . . it's Bill."

Ginny pressed her fingers to her mouth, trying to stop herself from crying.

"And last, and, well . . . actually, _the_ _least_, we have Radish."

There was another groan. "Well, at least it's not _Rodent_!"

"Wait, was that George?" Ginny took hold of the wireless. Daphne leaned in. So did about five other DA members all standing just behind them.

"I prefer Rodent to a root vegetable!" Fred said.

"Y'know what, why don't you take _your_ rodent, and shove—"

"Okay!" Lee's voice interrupted, "we should get started. So, now we begin with a quick update, starting the show as we do every time we broadcast _Potterwatch_, with news of the war."

All movement in the room seemed to stop.

"W-what do they start with first? The casualties?"

Ginny nodded solemnly at Susan's question. "Unfortunately, they do."

Susan gave a sniffle; Ernie approached her side and wrapped and arm around her shoulder. Everyone held their breaths, knowing, and expecting it to come—

"Since our last broadcast, there are several updates regarding the refugee status of several at-large witches and wizards. First, we can confirm that Jonathan and Sarah Corner—"

"Oh _Godric_ . . ." whispered Michael, who paled and swooned. Daphne stood and put her arms around him and Terry and Anthony came over and placed hands on his shoulders.

"—have been found safe and sound and have been transported to one of our safe-houses. As have Richard and Dorothy Boot. And they want to send their love to their sons and that they hope they're staying safe."

"Oh-_hhh damn . . . damndamndamn_." Terry reached around Michael and the wizards gave themselves a relieved one-armed hug. Anthony and Daphne led the whole room in thankful claps and whoops, everyone — including the usually taciturn Blaise Zabini — joining in.

"I wasn't expecting to hear about them." Michael wiped his face and shook his head trying to regain his composure. Terry did the same.

The cheering masked the other names being read off the wireless of the other refugees who had been transported to safer locations. Once the din died down, the students turned back to the contraption.

"In other news . . ."

Lee's voice cut through the air. "We now continue our series, called _Muggle-borns and the Ministry of Magic — LIES_! For new listeners, in this segment, we literally _Avada Kedavra_, we take a Bludgeoning Hex, we smite, destroy and _annihilate_ the theories that Muggle-borns _do not _— I repeat _DO NOT — _steal magic, wands, or anything else.

"As always, we must credit this research to the Healers, the Magical Researchers, and the Sanguigeneticists that did the experiments to prove whatever current theories the Ministry's putting out there today are one-hundred and ninety-nine percent—"

"Troll bollocks, right? That's what you were going to say, _right_ River?"

"I was going to be a _bit_ more eloquent, _Rodent_, but yes, that gets the sentiments across." Lee sighed. "And we must also give credit to the person who compiled all this information for us. It's through their hard work and efforts that this information was even made known to us in the first place."

"Yeah, Daphne!" Ginny hollered.

"Whoo-hoo!" Michael smacked his hands on the table and whistled, and the rest of the room cheered for her as well. Daphne stood up just a bit from her seat, with a smug smile, and bowed before her adoring audience. Blaise merely sat back and rolled his eyes at her, but a small grin peeked through his face.

"And so," Lee said, his voice building up and growing louder, "to this person, whom we hope is listening . . . we say—"

"_THANK YOU!_" Lee, George and Fred all shouted in unison, "_TO LITTLE ROTTEN EGG_!"

Daphne's face disintegrated from smugness to absolute, horrified shock . . . and then to anger.

(_Those . . . THOSE . . ._)

The rest of the DA simply watched her, stifling their laughter, more than half of them shoving their fists into their mouths, so as not to taunt the now enraged Slytherin.

It was Blaise who broke the silence. He simply couldn't hold it back any longer.

"_Bwah_-_ha-ha! Haaaah!_ _HAH-HAAAA_!"

Daphne stared daggers at him.

"_Et tu,_ Zabini?" she spat out with gritted teeth.

"I'm sending those blokes Christmas cards this year!" Blaise wiped his teary eyes. "Oh, Daphne, come off it. They've endeared you to our society. You're famous now!"

"They're calling me _Rotten Egg_!"

Ginny shrugged, and though she tried to remain nonchalant, Daphne could see the hysterics so desperate to explode from her. "They c-could've gone with R-rectum!"

She then promptly lost it.

Daphne smacked her forehead as the rest of the room, including Michael (_bloody traitor!_) Corner, dissolved into fits of riotous laughter.

When he went for an embrace, just a few minutes later, in order to apologize, Daphne allowed him to embrace her, but she did not put her own arms around him.

Instead, she kept her arms crossed, going stiff and hard every time Michael tried to pry them open.

"I'm protesting your participation in insulting me," she pouted. He could only chuckle.

"Whatever you say, my little _Rotten_ _Egg_!"

* * *

She _hated_ the Dark Arts classes.

She despised Amycus Carrow.

Every single day that he wasn't dead already was one more day that sucked.

Ginny dragged her bag up the staircase to her dormitory, hoping desperately the blood on her other arm wasn't dripping on the steps.

It was the right side of her body that hurt at the moment. She had made the . . .

(_What was it that Carrow called it?_)

(_Oh, that's right! An "ignorant and unfortunate lapse in judgment" . . . _)

. . .'mistake' in refusing to hex Cosima Ramsay, her friend and dorm-mate. Carrow had chosen Cosi specially for the demonstration of the semi-Unforgivable Bone Shattering Curses because her father was a Muggle.

And Carrow _hated _witches and wizards who had Muggle blood in them.

"Oh, don't worry, Miss _Weasley_," he had hissed coldly, "you can fix whatever you break inside of her after class."

Ginny had narrowed her eyes at him. "I won't be breaking _anything_!"

Cosi, as well as the other Gryffindors, had watched and screamed in horror as Carrow then sliced Ginny's wand arm open, using _Sectumsempra_. When he finished, he told Slytherin's fifth year prefect, Adney Harper, to escort Ginny straight to her common room entrance — "to make sure she not bother the Hospital Wing with _punishments_."

"Take her away, Harper. Mind," Carrow had sneered, "the floor with your blood, little _traitor bitch_!"

Harper was clearly on Carrow's side; he had aimed his wand at Ginny and kept taunting her about her wounds in a despicable mocking tone.

Ginny would've sent him the worst Bogey Hex she could've mustered . . . but her wand arm hurt so much, and she didn't want to risk losing anymore blood.

She had and entered the portrait hole and found that the common room was empty. She had made a quick trip to the girl's bathroom, and staunched as much of the wound as she could. And then she made her way up her stairs, trudging along as if in syrupy thick treacle.

"_Eyyurgh_!" Ginny grunted as she heaved her book bag to the foot of her bed, and continued to press her wand arm close to her body. She bit her lip, the pain stinging her and causing her eyes to water as if she were crying.

(_Don't give in_!)

(_Cry, and that bastard wins!_)

Ginny sat, taking in deliberate, big breaths through her nose, and she shut her eyes to work through the pain.

(_Oh Godric! I wish my mum were here._)

She could hear footsteps stampeding up the dormitory steps.

The door burst wide open—

"Ginny!" Cosima Ramsay flew over to her. She knelt in front of Ginny and tried to look at the damage. Just behind her stood Susanne Lasenby and Ursula Beckham, two of Ginny's other dorm-mates. They were wringing their hands and looked fearfully upon Ginny's face.

"W-we . . . I'm so . . . Ginny—"

"_Don't _. . ." she sucked in a breath, "apologize, Cosi. It's fine, all right?"

"Ginny," Ursula spoke up, "we went straight to McGonagall after class. Told her what had happened, and she's sending Pomfrey here. She should be here—"

"Right _now_, as a matter of fact!"

The girls all stood away as Madam Promfrey pushed herself roughly towards Ginny.

"Spell?"

"_Sectumsempra_." It was all Ginny could manage.

"That all?" Pomfrey had taken out her wand and started the incantation for the Quick Blood-Clotting Spell. With her other hand, she prepped cloths to keep the wound closed and clean.

Ginny nodded weakly, feeling her head swoon.

"You couldn't get to my office?" Pomfrey was blunt and direct with her tone; it wasn't accusatory as much as it was asking for information.

"N-no, I c- . . . coul-_llldnot_."

Ginny watched as Pomfrey started applying blood-replenishing solutions, her nostrils flaring. And as she stared at the older woman, Ginny thought that she looked far more frazzled, excessively more tired and shaken than ever before.

Of course, there were now two of her, and both Pomfreys seemed doubly tired . . .

"School year's barely started and it feels like students' injuries have jumped up almost one-hundred and fifty percent. And ninety percent of those are due to the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies classes!" Pomfrey looked at Ginny with total shock and disbelief. "I mean, _Muggle Studies_? That should be the least harmful class to anyone's health!"

Ginny was shocked; however, she figured all her face was showing was delirium from quite a bit of blood loss.

"The solution's effect will be instantaneous," Madam Pomfrey explained, "however, you won't really feel it for another half-hour."

Ginny nodded and felt herself getting drowsier and drowsier.

"It's important that you _do_ _not_ sleep while the solution's working; if anything goes wrong and you're not conscious, you will suffer for it!" She pushed the stopper back on the bottle and slapped Ginny a couple of times to keep her awake.

"Now, will you three girls be able to stay here with Miss Weasley while the solution takes effect?"

Cosi and Susanne nodded. "I don't think either of us has classes today until after lunch," Susanne said.

Ursula checked her watch. "I've got advanced Herbology next." She looked over at Ginny. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

Ginny loopily shook her head; it came out more like spinning circles.

"Miss Beckham," Pomfrey turned to her, "Professor Sprout has several plants that can speed up the healing process. The Velieris Blossom, do you know what that is?"

"Yes. It's the active ingredient in Skin Regrowing Solutions!"

Pomfrey nodded brusquely. "Sprout should have several that are blooming right now. Miss Weasley could do with three of them. Ask Professor Sprout to dry up one blossom, mash it with hot water at the beginning of class to allow it to steep, and bring the mixture up here after you're dismissed. One of you make sure she puts it on her arm, directly on the wound. Miss Weasley should have one blossom every twelve hours over the next couple of days. Help that skin grow back quicker!"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Very good." Pomfrey gathered her solutions with a quick _Accio_ and rechecked the wrappings around Ginny's arm.

She turned back to Ginny, who sat, upper body swirling to and fro.

"Miss Ramsay, Miss Lasenby, sit next to her on either side, and brace her so she doesn't fall over. She will start to feel the effects in twenty minutes." Pomfrey walked quickly toward the door. "The best thing to do would be to keep her talking, any subject, any matter . . . _anything_! Keep her brain going, you two. It's going to get worse before it gets better!" The school matron snapped her fingers. "Come, Miss Beckham. Get to your class sooner rather than later!"

Ursula jumped up and quickly grabbed her book bag.

"I'll be back," she said softly to the three girls. Susanne and Cosi simply waved at her and sat down next to Ginny. Ginny could feel them pressing against her, holding her by her arms, Cosi making sure that she wasn't touching the injury.

"C-_cos-si_?" she slurred.

"Y-yes, Gin?"

"I l-lurv-vve yer diary . . . write . . . _initall . . . the_ . . . _time_."

"Whoa!" Susanne grabbed her as Ginny almost fell over straight into Cosi's lap. "Easy there, tiger. Er, Ginny, are . . . um . . . what's going on with the older Gryffindors? Any updates? Like when to expect the next edition of that newsletter?"

"Ay . . . er- . . . din'tya know abou'it?"

Cosi laughed, but even though she was next to Ginny's head, it sounded like it came from far away.

"Well, no, but . . . we've sort of been meaning to ask you, both Susanne and I, and I think we can speak for Ursula too, that if there's anything we can help with, we'd want to do it."

Ginny grinned like she had just drunk an entire bottle of firewhiskey in the last half-hour. She reached with her good arm and gave Cosi two pats on her cheek.

"Wh-hhee jus' meet on seventh flll-ooar-rr . . ."

Cosi and Susanne looked at each other, frowning. "Where, though?" Cosi said, shrugging.

"_Evur_ . . . _heard_ . . . _ofroomofreequierrrrrmut_ . . ."

"Huh?" Susanne was confused.

"Yah know," Ginny gazed as her, completely loopy. "_Room_ . . .er . . . Requirrr-munt. Yah . . . not heard 'bout it." And she smiled and smacked her lips slowly, as if her mouth was made out of cotton.

"Room of _Requirement_. Okay, but," Cosi said. "What's that all about?"

Ginny slapped at her leg with her good hand. "Oh, Cosi! It's the room we used in fourth year-rrrrr!" She again smacked her lips and ran her hand through her hair. "Dobby showed it to Harry and H-Harry sh-hhowed us . . ."

"Who's Dobby?"

Ginny shoved at Cosi, albeit very weakly. "Y'know . . . house-elf . . . effin' _Dobby_!"

Suddenly, a loud _CRACK,_ like someone Apparating, reverberated inside the dormitory room. Cosi and Susanne nearly fell back onto Ginny's bed in shocked surprise.

"Whoa! _WHOA_!" Ginny lamely flailed her legs to try to stop her fall. Instinctively, she threw her injured wand arm out, trying to catch herself—

And she stopped in mid-air.

"Wha—?"

Ginny looked up, and she saw two identical-looking house-elves standing in front of her, their skinny little arms extended in front of them.

"Dobby is not letting Miss Wheezy fall! Dobby is wanting Miss Wheezy to not hurt herself, because Dobby looks out for the great Harry Potter's _friends_!"

"D-Dob- . . . _Dobby_?"

The dual Dobbys nodded in sync. "Miss Wheezy did call for Dobby? Dobby never messes up when the great Harry Potter's friends needs help!"

Ginny shook her head quickly and ferociously. She was still hovering in mid air, but she touched her head with her good hand. Looking back in front of her, Ginny now only saw one Dobby. The solution, apparently, had kicked in, or, at least, she was just now feeling the effects of it. Her head was finally clear.

"Dobby!" Ginny exclaimed with a smile.

Dobby grinned. "Dobby is most happy that Miss Wheezy is doing well!" Dobby turned his tennis-ball sized eyes to Susanne and Cosi. "Are these friends of Miss Wheezy's?"

Ginny turned her head — and realized that she was still in mid-air. "Er . . . Dobby, could you put me back onto my bed?"

"Oh yes, Miss Wheezy! Dobby would be happy to do so!" And, with a grin, Dobby flexed his hand, and Ginny felt her body float back up. Her bottom touched the plush mattress of her bed.

Turning her head left and right, Ginny held back a snicker as she saw Cosi and Susanne staring at Dobby, gobsmacked expressions plastered on their faces.

"Um . . . Dobby, these _are_ my friends, Cosi and Susanne," Ginny said, giving the girls a proper introduction. She had to stifle a giggle as they just sat on the edge of her bed, gaping at the new visitor.

Dobby was quite a sight, now that Ginny had hers back and could focus on his appearance. He was wearing a tea cozy covered in badges, under which were a couple of knitted hats that Ginny noticed, with a pang, had been the ones Hermione knitted for the house-elves during her fourth year.

And, with a greater thud in her chest, Ginny — once again — felt tears welling up in her eyes as she noticed an oversized Weasley jumper covering him, practically drowning him in its massive size.

And, of course, as always, socks . . . so very many, many socks covered his small and skinny feet.

"Did Dobby do something to make Miss Wheezy sad?"

Ginny shook her head rapidly. "N-no, Dobby." She sniffled. "How are you doing?"

Dobby got an unusually dark look on his elvish face. "Things are _not_ good, Miss Wheezy. Not good at all! Dobby is very concerned about the headmaster of the school." Dobby swooned a bit, but regained his composure. "Oh! That is the first time Dobby has said anything bad about the Headmaster, and Dobby is not needing to hit his head!"

"Of course not. You're a free house-elf!" Ginny exclaimed. "You should speak your mind."

"Well then, Dobby thinks the Headmaster's evil and a bad man! Dobby does not like the Carrows either!" It was the first time Ginny had ever seen Dobby look angry. "Dobby thinks they are bad and evil men and they do bad and evil things to the students!" At that moment, Dobby noticed the bandages on Ginny's arm. "Miss Wheezy! Y- . . . your arm is hurt?"

Ginny held up her wand arm, and nodded.

Dobby grew even angrier, more furious. So much so that Ginny felt herself quell at the little elf's expression. "_Who_?! Who caused pain to the great Harry Potter's friend?"

Ginny sighed. "It was Amycus Carrow."

Dobby hissed — actually _hissed _— catching Ginny off-guard. "Does Miss Wheezy want Dobby to do something about him?"

"_No_! Er . . . no, Dobby. I don't want getting more people involv—" Ginny stopped, and pulled at her lip, deep in thought.

"Um, Ginny?" Cosi said, after a couple of moments. "You all right?"

Ginny shook her head rapidly. "Dobby, do you have a lot of freedom to move about the castle?"

The house-elf's huge eyes popped out and he looked at Ginny with the happiest expression. "Dobby is a free elf! The great Harry Potter, the most wonderful and kindest wizard that Dobby as ever known, freed Dobby with socks!" He stuck out a sock-covered leg. "Socks have been Dobby's most favorite thing ever since! Because Dobby is a free elf and was getting paid for his services here at Hogwarts by Dumbledore—"

"Wait a minute!" Ginny looked at Dobby with a furious and disbelieving expression. "Snape's not paying you?"

"Oh no! Snape is not paying Dobby, Miss! But the great Professor McGonagall is giving Dobby socks _and _paying for work. We is not telling the evil Headmaster, Miss."

Ginny ran her fingers across her lips. "Your secret is safe with us, right?" She turned towards Cosi and Susanne, who both vigorously nodded in agreement.

"Since Dobby is a free elf, Dobby has vowed to aid the great Harry Potter and all of Harry Potter's friends! Is Miss Wheezy needing Dobby's help?"

Ginny nodded, and knelt on the floor in front of him. "It's nothing specific, okay? But I just want to know, generally speaking, can you move around the castle? Would you be able to help people that are injured, and stay out of the way of the Carrows and Snape? Could you bring them to the Hospital Wing if necessary, or bring Madam Pomfrey to them?"

Dobby nodded vigorously; his many hats bobbed right along with his head. "Yes, Miss Wheezy! Oh, Dobby will do that!"

She then remembered something that had been brought up in their last meeting of Dumbledore's Army, almost as a passing joke, once the latest episode of _Potterwatch_ had wrapped up. "Could you be a lookout for us, too? If, oh, say somebody who supported Harry put something on a wall that said 'Long Live Harry Potter!' or "Support Harry Potter!'? Or wanted to do other things supporting Harry, but didn't want to draw attention to themselves?"

He just stared at her, his great big eyes watering, and he trembled with near-reverent emotion. "Dobby will do _anything _to aid Harry Potter and all of Harry Potter's friends!"

"Dobby, the next time I call for you, you'll come, right?"

He nodded vigorously.

"And will you come if Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Daphne Greengrass call for you?"

"Dobby will come for any of the great Harry Potter's friends! Dobby loves them as much as Harry Potter himself!"

Ginny smiled, and she continued to smile, as she walked over to her dresser and opened the top drawer.

Walking back over to the little house-elf, Ginny once again dropped to her knees in front of him, wincing as a small shot of pain coursed through her. She held out her hand.

In them was a pair of hand-knitted red-and-yellow striped socks.

"Dobby, let me give these to you. My mum made them, and . . ." she smiled through tears that were increasing the more she looked at what Dobby was wearing, "they'll go with your jumper."

He promptly burst into tears and hugged Ginny violently around her waist.

"Miss Wheezy! So kind to Dobby! So pretty and sweet and smart and loyal!"

"Er . . . yeah, Dobby," she said, patting him on the back and smiling at the little fellow the entire time.


	25. Chapter 24: Of Friends and Falling

**A/N: **I am so sorry about the late update . . . my (stolen) wireless had been cutting out on me, and we finally broke down and bought our own personal router. Go us.

I know I've been so neglectful of my review replies (an unusually busy September was to blame!) But thank you to all my reviewers. I really appreciate your feedback.

I own nothing. Much thanks (as always!) to my beta, stella8h8chang for all of her suggestions, opinions, and making sure this story doesn't totally suck. Rated "A" for "_ADORABLE_"! To my male readers, please excuse any overabundance of fluff in this chapter. There won't be much fluff in the rest of the story.

* * *

**Chapter 24: Of Friends and Falling**

**  
**"Good morning."

Amycus Carrow strutted in front of the students. He raised his wand, as he did every day to start off each lesson, as if to conduct some macabre orchestra. "Now . . . _repeat! _The purer the blood—"

"The better the wizard."

Daphne noticed that there were only a handful of students who reveled in the reply to Carrow's required response. Those students were, as expected, in her House. The rest of the class either spoke the words calmly, muttered them under their breaths, or moved only their mouths, but shot daggers at Carrow.

And then there were the couple of students that refused to do anything—

"Why, Mister Longbottom!" Carrow strolled casually up to Neville's desk, twirling his wand in his fingers like it was a mere stick of wood. "Again, you disrespect me by refusing to follow my rules."

Neville kept his face cold, emotionless.

Amycus raised his palm. Daphne braced herself; she knew exactly what was coming next—

Except, that this time, Carrow turned sharply to Neville's left, and hit Lavender Brown hard — right on her cheek.

She yelped and fell over into Parvati, who caught her and held onto her. Neville stared, horrified, trying to make his way over to Lavender to help her and, Daphne was certain, to apologize.

Seamus bolted out of his seat, wand already in hand.

"_Expelliarm—_"

"_Osteo Contricio!_"

"_No!_" Lavender screamed.

There was a sickening sound of things crumpling and crunching, and Daphne could actually see bumps and protrusions moving under the skin of Seamus' hand. He howled in pain and his wand clattered to the floor. Seamus fell to his knees, panting hard, clutching his now broken hand. Lavender scrambled out of her seat and ran to check on him. Her own face was still red from Carrow slapping her not seconds before. The Gryffindor girl looked back at Carrow, her face fierce with fury. Behind her, Daphne saw Crabbe and Goyle smiling, their hands clapping with a morbid glee at watching pain consume Seamus.

Carrow merely smiled at Lavender but turned back to Neville, who stared at the Death Eater with a disbelieving, disgusted expression.

"Look at what your _impudence_ has caused, Mister Longbottom." Carrow positioned himself so that he was now mere inches from Neville. His face was a study in mock pity.

"So thick-headed. So dumb." Carrow cocked his head to the right. "You only hurt your friends when you disobey your teachers."

Neville narrowed his eyes and looked at him. "You're no teacher! _You're_ a murderer!"

Daphne scrambled up out of her seat. "M-Mister . . . _Professor_," Daphne gestured to Seamus, "Finnigan's not going to be any use in this class." She shrugged, hoping to keep her demeanor steady and calm. "Wh-why don't I escort him to the hospital wing?"

Carrow turned his attention to Daphne now and, with a sickening feeling growing in her guts, he smiled at her in that horrible, awful, creepy way he had about him.

It was an expression that chilled Daphne to her bones.

"_Miss_ – _Greengrass_," Carrow said slowly. He moved to stand closer to her, turning away from Neville completely. "This is the second time that you have come to the rescue of two Gryffindors, one of whom—" he gestured to Neville, "is a fat, clumsy, Potter-worshiping _fool_, and the other—" he nudged his head toward Seamus, "is nothing more than a mere mixed breed _mongrel_." Daphne backed away, swallowing her nerves, as Carrow pushed into her personal space; she could smell his foul, rotting breath. "I even saw you weep over Longbottom's body. _Why?_"

Daphne mustered the most arrogant, superior expression that she could, and said, slow and steady, "Professor, I'm Head Girl. It's my duty to follow the Headmaster's orders. He insisted that students' safety be the paramount concern during his tenure. I'm only looking out for . . . that. _Sir._" She finished a bit lamely.

Her breath hitched as Carrow drew her chin up in the air toward his face.

"You make one very interesting Slytherin, _Miss Greengrass_," he slurred out, twisting her head to and fro. "_Very _interesting, indeed."

Daphne could feel her lip tremble. Just as quickly as he started touching her face, he pulled away from her. Carrow spun around and waved his hand dismissively as he marched to the front of the classroom. "Take him, Miss Greengrass." He snapped his fingers. "Mister Malfoy, go and help her, since you _are_ Head Boy."

Daphne glanced over at Draco Malfoy, who rolled his eyes in exasperation, and pushed himself out of his seat. She went over to Seamus, who was still kneeling on the floor, sweating and turning pale.

"Sea- . . . er, _Finnigan_," Daphne stammered. "I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing now." She shot a quick look at Carrow, who was still staring at her. "Maybe Pomfrey will be willing to help fix your dirty-blooded hand."

It was, by any account, a pitiable insult. But it was the only thing that popped into Daphne's head that might take away any suspicion that she had any sympathies toward Gryffindors.

She thought it wasn't all that convincing.

Daphne bent down, as if to take Seamus' other hand, and he pulled away from her, exaggeratedly.

"Yer not touchin' anything on me! I'll get myself up, you slimy, good-fer-nothin' _snake_!"

Daphne's eyes grew big at Seamus' shouting . . . until she saw a small grin poke at the side of his mouth furthest away from Carrow. Seamus winced.

"You going to be all right, Shay?" Lavender asked, her hand touching his face.

Seamus nodded quickly, wincing again as he accidentally kept putting pressure on his broken hand, still sweating from what must be constant, rolling pain. "Fine, Lav. Come up after class, okay?"

Lavender nodded, gave Daphne a look that she interpreted as a "thank you". Without another word, she went back to her seat.

Daphne and Seamus exited the classroom, Daphne's hand appearing to have a tight hold on his left arm, grasping it so it looked like she was pushing him hard to walk.

Just behind them, Draco Malfoy walked, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers, and not saying a word.

"Seamus, is it really bad?" Daphne leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"Naw . . . it feels like butterflies touching m' fingers. _Of course it's bad_!" he hissed. And he cringed and sucked in a breath. "Blimey . . . it . . . _stings_!"

Daphne let go of his arm. "Sorry about in there. With Carrow and pretending like Pomfrey wouldn't want to see you."

He gave her a look of disbelief, albeit pained, and shook his head. "Daphne, I-I know exactly why ya did it. And . . ." he groaned and held in a breath again, "I-I don't hold it . . . against . . . ya." Seamus grimaced. "Just . . . wanna . . . have Pomfrey . . ." he pulled his lips in, and Daphne saw him swallow shakily, "lookit this fer me."

Daphne nodded. They had to be hasty. Seamus was growing more and more pale, and Daphne could see the sweat had bypassed the beady stage and had gone straight for an all-out deluge. And he was shaking, as if trying to hold in exactly how much he had been hurt.

She felt someone push past her roughly. She glared at the Head Boy, who was walking just a bit quicker, but not putting a whole lot of distance between them.

"Malfoy, you're not actually going up to the Hospital Wing with us?"

He shot her a derisive stare. "Don't flatter yourself, Greengrass. I've got no intentions to assist you in your pathetic caretaker efforts to some half-Muggle, half-wizard abomination." He snorted and nodded towards Seamus, who would've been more inclined to toss an insult to Malfoy had he been trying _not_ to vomit.

Daphne just shook her head. "And to think . . . I was actually feeling sorry for you a couple of weeks ago."

Draco Malfoy gritted his teeth and thrust his face into hers.

(_After today, I'll have had quite enough of people shoving their faces into my personal space!_)

"I – _don't _– need – your – _pity_!" Malfoy hissed. And he spun quickly on his heels and stormed off the opposite direction, turning a corner that indicated to Daphne he might be heading back downstairs to the dungeons.

(_For the love of Salazar! Remember next time you talk to that wanker, he's still a bloody wanker!_)

Seamus stopped, bent over, and promptly retched all over the floor and his shoes.

"Oh shit!" Daphne exclaimed as the boy wiped his mouth. "We've got to get you to Pomfrey _now_!"

With a quick "_Evanesco,_" Daphne cleaned up the mess and whisked him away as fast as possible to the Hospital Wing.

* * *

After the attack on Seamus, Neville called an emergency meeting of Dumbledore's Army in order to discuss how they were going to proceed from this point forward. Ginny thought she was the first to arrive at the Room of Requirement; instead, she found Daphne sitting all by herself, waiting for others to show up.

Daphne turned to look over her shoulder. She had just caught Ginny trying to sneak up from behind and scare her with a greeting.

"Oops! Damn . . . I need to be more stealthy."

Daphne glared at her, which promptly melted into a smirk. "You're a Weasley, lest you forget. You were _born_ loud."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but noticed the piece of parchment Daphne was holding in her hands. There were a couple of lines written on it, but it didn't make sense to her at all. "What've you got there?"

"Oh, er . . ." She let out a sigh. "All right, I'll tell you, and you'll think me completely barmy for being so preoccupied with this, but a couple of weeks ago, during one of those meetings Dr- . . . er, _Malfoy_ and I have in Snape's office, I found a scrap of paper that . . ." Daphne grunted, as if she wasn't quite sure what she thought she saw, "well, it sort of fell off of . . . er, _him_."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Ew!"

"Not like that! It fell off his desk, or his robes caught it, or it fell off of his lap or out of his sleeve . . . whatever. I read it at least five times, and as soon as I could get to my things, I wrote the words down, because, well . . . just look at it, all right?"

Daphne handed the parchment to Ginny. Her eyes ran over the few words written on it, clearly confused.

"'Could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I think her mind's going, personally! Love, Lily.'" She raised an eyebrow, and looked back up at Daphne. "Oh, well, _that's _really straightforward."

Daphne scratched her head. "It's just odd, y'know. Why would Snape have something that looks like only part of a letter in his possession, and from someone named Lily?" She dropped her hand and let it fall on the table with a thud. "Did he even know someone named Lily?"

Ginny creased her brow thinking about all the witches named "Lily" that she had ever heard of or had known.

"The only Lily I know of that might be around Snape's age, is Harry's mum."

That piqued Daphne's interest. "D'ya think they knew each other?"

Ginny shrugged. "Dunno. Wait a minute. Are you sure you wrote this out right? You got every word correct?"

Daphne gave her an indignant look. "Ginny, I bloody know how to read! And I read that thing multiple times. Committed it to memory!"

She held out her hand to placate the Slytherin. "All right. But have you considered the tone of this letter?"

Daphne stared at her, befuddled.

"Well, look at what it's saying." Ginny held it out in front of them. "When this 'Lily' person wrote how someone could ever have been friends with Grindelwald, well," She scratched at her chin, "Grindelwald's the most famous dark wizard of this century, next to—"

"Lord '_Scrotum_-_Sack_'?"

"Yeah," Ginny replied, nodding slowly. "And then the next sentence says, 'I think her mind's going, personally!' and that's emphasized because she's got an exclamation point right there."

Daphne's eyes widened, and Ginny couldn't help but smile; it was like she had just had an epiphany. So, she continued.

"And the whole thing preceding the mention of Grindelwald sort of suggests that 'Lily' didn't understand why this person was friends with him in the first place." Ginny laid the parchment down on the table, and smacked her palm on it

Daphne inhaled deeply as she continued to look at the letter. "This Lily also refers to that person as a 'her' — '_her_ _mind_ is going'." She rubbed on her bottom lip, briefly looking over her shoulder as both girls heard the door to the Room open and close and Neville, Parvati, Lavender, and a still-bandaged Seamus all walked into the room. She shook her head slowly; to Ginny, it looked as if she was trying to let everything soak in. "No way did any Dark Wizard write this. I mean, for one, no Death Eater or Dark Lord that _I _know of would ever sign their letters 'Love'. And, just like you said, there's the tone of the letter itself. Lily thought this person had lost their mind for being friends with Grindelwald. Who," Daphne exhaled through her nose quite loudly, "I've read something about Grindelwald somewhere recently—"

Daphne looked back at the note, stopping herself in mid-thought. "Well, whatever. We just need to find out who this 'Lily' is, that's all. Not to mention how Snape knew her and why he'd have this small scrap of a letter on him."

Ginny looked at her doubtfully, turning around as more members of the D.A. filed into the room. "I'd leave Snape alone, at least about this. It's bad news — not to mention, potentially _life-threatening _— to investigate anything personal about him."

Daphne gave Ginny a very dark look; she didn't even notice Michael Corner waving at her. "Dumbledore once told me that I reminded him of Snape. Granted, that was before Snape killed him. But _I _want to know. He told me that Snape had something that belied his charms." The Slytherin sat back in her chair. "I can't help but think Dumbledore knew exactly what he was talking about. That he knew Snape and he understood and trusted Snape." Daphne bit her lip. "And if Dumbledore was right about him, then Snape killing him doesn't make any sense. And it _has _to Ginny. I've got to make it make sense for me."

Ginny found herself at a loss for words. She had no idea how to respond to Daphne's confession, so all she could do was set her lips together gently, and nod.

"You two not gabbing about me, are ya?"

Daphne jumped up in the air as Michael had come up behind her, putting both hands on her shoulders, grinning at the two girls.

"Crap, Michael! I almost wet myself!" Daphne panted and put a hand up to her chest. She looked back up at Michael and smiled at him and he smiled back.

Ginny breathed out in relief that the tension that had set in before dissipated. "Is everyone here?" she asked, looking around the room, taking an informal head count.

"Actually, we seem to be missing — ah! There he is now!"

"At some point," Blaise Zabini said, jogging over to them and huffing out in an annoyed tone, "we are going to have to stop meeting like this. I've got N.E.W.T.s to prepare for!"

Daphne looked at him with an exasperated expression. "We all do, Blaise. But, I think Neville's got some pressing matters that he wants to air out." Daphne rose out of her seat, and hip-bumped Michael affectionately.

Ginny chuckled as she watched the Ravenclaw boy blush and grin. And she turned her attention towards Neville, who was standing in his normal spot at the front of the room.

"Everybody? Can we all just take a seat, either at the table, or, just kip a spot on the floor?"

The members of the D.A. got settled in, and Neville clapped his hands together, taking a deep breath.

"We need to discuss how we're going to handle the Carrows and people who might be on their side and working for them." Neville looked at the other Gryffindors, who all nodded. Several of the others did as well. Daphne and Blaise both shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Neville continued. "A lot of us have already been injured by them, and October's just around the corner. We've got three more months until the Christmas holiday, and we've got to find a way, not just to survive, but to show them that they aren't getting to us. That no matter what they do to us, they can't stop us from believing in Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

Ginny felt her heat speed up as he mentioned their names; her eyes shifted to the ground.

"Ginny?" Neville asked. "Did you want to say something?"

Composing herself, she looked up, nodded, and stepped forward. "I'm only speaking for myself here, but, at this point, the Carrows know who's against them. Clearly, the injuries have been focused on the Gryffindor upper years, for the most part. They've been gunning for us since the term started."

"Throw in Jack Sloper, and you've got it right," Neville concurred.

Ginny gave him a resigned grin. "So, it doesn't matter what we do, right?" She turned back to the others. "They'll find something to get on us and they'll just keep cursing and hexing us."

"But we can't let them win, and that's what'll happen if we stop speaking up." Neville folded his arms and scratched at his chin. "We've got to keep undermining them. And it has to be more often than a newsletter that we can show students every week or so. No offense Daphne."

Daphne shook her head. "No, I understand." She closed her eyes, took a very deep breath, and opened them back up. "C-can I say something? Up there?"

Neville nodded at her and gestured for her to approach. She stood up and brushed her jeans off. Taking a couple of deep breaths with each step, she turned around, blinking at the others before she started speaking.

"I think that, if we do this, we're opening ourselves up to a world of torture and abuse." Ginny noticed Daphne kept biting her lip and her cheeks as she struggled through what she wanted to say, what she needed for others to understand. "I know what you all are thinking too. 'Who the _hell_ does this girl think she is?'" Daphne lowered her voice. "'_She's _Head Girl! _She's _in Slytherin! _She's _never had to put herself on the line. The Carrows haven't attacked her yet!' " Daphne stopped talking and looked at the others, continuing to worry at her lower lip with her teeth.

"Amycus Carrow forced me to stand in front of our class and make me torture Neville. He made me watch . . . he made _all_ of us watch as he did it." She looked at Neville with eyes that expressed a deep and infinite sadness.

"I'll admit that I respected you before that, Neville Longbottom. But you became a bloody hero that day in Carrow's class."

Neville shook his head. "I'm not a hero—"

Daphne held up a hand to stop him and she turned back to the group. "It gutted — absolutely _gutted _— me to have been there, watching Carrow torture Neville, watching him break Seamus' hand, watching him slap Parvati and Lavender. It was like I saw Cedric Diggory's body again in fourth year." She lowered her head, and Ginny heard her voice break. "W-when I saw Harry return from _wherever_ he had been, and he was holding Cedric . . . lifeless . . ."

Ginny walked over and put a hand on Daphne's shoulder, smiling at her reassuringly.

Daphne paused and sucked in a shaky breath. "_That _was the first time I had ever seen a dead body. And he was only a couple of years older than me, than _all_ of us. I just . . . I worry too much about what's going to happen. And I," Daphne lifted her head. "I don't want to see any of us get hurt. I don't know if antagonizing them is going to make any difference."

The room remained silent.

"I," Daphne said softly, "kinda like you guys too." She kicked at the floor with her scruffy shoes.

Ginny regarded Daphne Greengrass — a girl she had gotten to know very well over the summer holiday, a Slytherin quite different from the others in her house. And she smiled. She thought that before this year, before last year, before her _fourth_ year, if anyone had told her that she would've heard that speech coming out of _that_ girl's mouth, Ginny would've thought the world had gone all topsy-turvy. Daphne's speech was surprisingly touching, and seemed to resonate with the rest of the D.A.

Ginny looked over at Michael, curious to see his reaction. He was staring at Daphne with an indefinable expression on his face, part proud, part admiring, part . . . _something_. His eyes were shiny in the flickering candlelight.

She could also see, very clearly, a smile breaking out on Michael's face. And he looked like he was a little awed about what she had just said.

However, it was Neville Longbottom who broke the silence.

"That's why, when we do this, we've got to be careful. We've got to be quiet as we work. And we've got to have your full support. You too, Blaise." He addressed the other Slytherin. "We need both you and Daphne to get information for us, to let us know what they're going to be doing. So we can be ready for it."

Blaise blinked a couple of times. "That means we have to act as double agents, then? Daphne and I? Stay on Slytherin's good side, and don't draw too much attention to us?"

Neville nodded. "That's the general idea."

"So, what does that mean?" Daphne asked, and Ginny could hear notes of desperation creeping into her voice. "Do I not stick up for you and make sure you get medical attention if you're hurt? Does that mean I not take my lumps too? That I stay safe and sound while he turns all of you into targets?" Daphne looked at Neville, and then around the Room. "And are you not going to resent either me or Blaise if we keep up the appearance that our noses are 'clean'? Because I remember how you all greeted me in fifth year, and I remember how you greeted Blaise a few weeks ago. And I think a couple of you still don't fully trust me."

Ginny saw Anthony Goldstein look away from Daphne, and he fiddled with his fingers as they remained wrapped around his knees.

"We should vote!"

Everyone turned towards Luna Lovegood.

"One person thinks we shouldn't increase our efforts against the Carrows because of the risk of injury to ourselves. The other person thinks that we need to do more to undermine them." She regarded each person with that same "Luna Lovegood" smile that she always seemed to wear and she shrugged languidly. "Father always has his staff vote whenever there's two possible front page articles. That happened back in my fourth year, when Harry gave us his exclusive interview, and Father wanted to publish those first-hand eyewitness accounts of the existence of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. They voted for Harry's article, of course, and that still remains _The Quibbler_'s top issue!"

A smattering of suppressed laughter tinkled across the room, and Ginny had to admit that Luna had, once again, added her own desperately-needed "Luna-ness" to the meeting.

"I agree," Ginny said. "And the outcome of the vote must be binding on _all – of_ – _us_. Every person _must _follow it." Her eyes crossed over the room. Encouragingly, everyone nodded.

"Okay, so Luna. Start us off."

Luna smiled dreamily at Ginny. "Everyone who thinks that we need to back off and continue with our current plans, please raise your hand now!" Luna kept her hand down, but Ginny watched as she scanned the room. Daphne, Blaise, Padma, Anthony, Susan, and Hannah all raised their hands.

"That makes six. Thank you. You can put your hands down." Luna continued to smile pleasantly as she watched them lower their hands. "Now, who wants to increase our efforts against the Carrows, and really try to get under their skin?"

This time Ginny, Neville, Parvati, Seamus, Lavender, Terry, Ernie and Michael all voted.

Luna's head moved to each hand now extended into the air. "Very good. You may put your hands down."

The students complied.

"Well, the official count is eight-six in favor of increasing our efforts."

"Wait Luna," Padma said, pointing at the younger Ravenclaw. "You didn't vote."

"Oh, that's because I can see the validity of both sides. I don't like what the Carrows are doing, but I don't want to see us get hurt any further. Besides," Luna shrugged, "I didn't want to influence the outcome. I was the one keeping tally!"

"That's it then." Daphne spoke with a decisiveness that had been missing from her since the meeting started. She looked at Michael with so much disappointment, Ginny could feel her own heart breaking for her friend.

* * *

"You didn't have to stay."

Daphne stuffed her book bag to its exploding point. The meeting had disbanded. Now, it was just Michael and her in the room, and she wasn't quite sure about her feelings towards him at that point.

She had said her peace at the meeting, she had laid it all out on the line, and Michael had voted against her anyway.

Even stranger was that Anthony Goldstein, the one friend of Michael's that _royally_ disliked and distrusted her, voted for her position.

It was bizarre. Completely, totally bizarre. And Daphne had a throbbing headache, one that felt like a little creature had wormed its way into her head and was pounding on the other side to be let out—

"D-Daphne . . ." Michael said, awkwardly coughing to clear his throat.

She picked up the parchment scrap she had shown Ginny earlier, with the words transcribed from that small bit of a letter Snape had from someone named Lily—

"Daphne?"

She gave a small start, crumpling the paper up as she threw it into her bag. She spun around to face Michael who was standing behind her, wiping his hands on his trousers and shirt.

"Michael," she said again, suppressing a sigh, "seriously, I can walk back to the dungeons just fine."

"Th-that's . . . that's not what, er . . . why . . ." his voice faded.

"Look," Daphne shouldered her book bag, and regarded him with resigned eyes, "I know you don't agree with what I said. You voted to increase the efforts against those bastards, and you think I'm weak, and that I don't want to put myself on the line or anything—"

"_No_. No I don't Daphne."

"But," she continued, not really hearing him. "I don't know if I can be a spy and just watch everyone fight and rebel, when I'm not doing anything like all of you are." Daphne looked at him, pleading with Michael to understand exactly where she was coming from. "It's like everyone else is going to put themselves right in harm's way! _I'm_ not giving up _anything_. Blaise and I are just going to act all Slytherin, which I don't bloody know what that even _means _this year! And a_ll_ of you are going to resent me—"

"I love you."

"And all of this work, everything I've done to get your trust . . ." Daphne stopped. "Wait." She heard her own voice, barely a whisper. "What?"

She watched him, standing probably three meters away from her. He was shaking a small bit, and he kept biting his lips as he blinked and took a breath—

"I love you, Daphne." He let out a slow, steady breath.

She stared at him. "Wh-what do you mean?" She cocked her head, and looked at him, mired in her own thoughtful confusion. "Wh-when you say that—"

Michael nodded, and he started to smile. "When I say that I love you, it kind of means that _I_ – _love – you_."

Daphne was now blinking so rapidly, she was making herself dizzy. "B-but y-y-you voted against me. Y-you didn't agree with me."

"And that doesn't mean that I didn't hear what you said tonight." Michael stepped forward, steadily but slowly. "What I heard was you telling us you didn't want to see anyone harmed. You were scared for us because you, what was that word you used again? _Like_, I think it was. You _like _us."

Daphne was torn between wanting to smack him for teasing her at a moment like this, and wanting to embrace him.

"You talked about watching people get hurt, like Cedric Diggory in our fourth year. It _hurt_ _you_ to watch them hurt your friends." Michael stopped walking, standing mere inches away from her. "I _heard_ you. And, I'll admit, I was really either too stupid or too scared to understand how I felt about you, but it hit me tonight."

"Hit you?" Her voice sounded so far away. His voice, though, kept resonating in her head.

(_"I love you._")

(_"I love you, Daphne."_)

(_". . . it means I love you."_)

"Like a Bludgeoning Hex. Like a troll club. Like a Bludger smacking Quincy Bole right in the head." Michael winked. "And," he shrugged, "I can't walk away from you tonight without being honest with you about it." Daphne felt herself swoon.

She couldn't believe this. She didn't _want_ to believe this. Blokes like Michael didn't tell girls like her that they loved them — and is that different from being _in love_ with them? No . . . they said those words to pretty, popular girls like Ginny or Cho. She was Daphne Greengrass, one of the most unpopular Slytherins probably to have ever attended Hogwarts.

Well, that wasn't necessarily true. If she was "popular", it was only because of her reputation . . . wait, was _that_ why Michael liked — no, _loved _her? Because if he said those words, she'd give him what he wanted?

(_But you two haven't really gone that far yet!_)

Daphne thought about the two of them throughout the past year. Questions flew around in her head: who had held her when she had cried because of her past relationships and bad deeds . . . who had tried to talk to her when she had had her breakdown . . . who had written her letters over this violent summer, making sure she was okay?

(_It was Michael. _

(_It was always him._)

There was simply no way this could be true. This only happened to good girls, and her history showed that she was not one of those.

But here they were. Trembling and shaking, Daphne looked at him. He stood so close to her, she could feel his breath on her cheek.

It was a wonder how someone could be both consumed by terror and happiness at the same time.

"You love me?" she squeaked.

Michael nodded. "But," he held his hand out, touching her mouth softly with the pad of his thumb. "I understand if you're not ready to say it back to me. I just thought . . . well, I thought that you should hear those words probably a bit more often than not."

Daphne shook her head quickly and tried to stop her lip from quivering and her chin from giving way.

But it was of no use.

Without another word, Michael wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on both of her cheeks, her nose, and finally her lips. And Daphne sunk into him, wondering if he minded tasting her tears as he continued to kiss her and kiss her and kiss her . . .


	26. Chapter 25: New Allies

**A/N:** A big thanks to stella8h8chang for beta-reading this chapter; there are a few parts that I changed after she got her revisions back to me, so hopefully, nothing's too off on those portions. She also contributed a couple of Ginny's thoughts in the middle section.

Rated T for mature themes and language. I own nothing, not the song lyrics nor Harry Potter. And two very special guest appearances in this one.

* * *

**Chapter 25:** **New Allies **

Daphne was walking down the hallway towards Slughorn's Advanced Potions class. She was quite surprised at her ability to block out Blaise Zabini as if he were a mere buzzing pest hovering around her head.

(_"I said maybe you're gonna be the one who saves me . . ."_)

"Greengrass," he said, cocking his eyebrow, "Michael Corner and Terry Boot have just asked me to participate in a _ménage-à-trois_ and I accepted, and you . . . _would not_, er . . . hello? Anyone home?"

(_"And after all, you're my wonderwall—"_)

Blaise waved his hand in front of Daphne's face.

"I'm here, you idiot! I'm just ignoring you."

Blaise snorted, smirking at her still dreamy expression. "He's really gotten to you, hasn't he?"

Daphne smirked right back. "What if he has?"

To her surprise, Blaise's smirk melted into a smile — a true, genuine smile. "It's nice, isn't it?"

"What's nice?"

"To have someone in your life like that. To just be _free, _and . . . I don't know . . . happy."

Daphne cocked an eyebrow at him. "Truly happy, Blaise?"

He nodded, a lazy content smile still spread across his face. "Truly."

"So, has _your_ 'happiness' been in touch with you lately?"

Blaise nodded, keeping his face mild, but Daphne noticed the spark in his eyes, always present whenever he thought about Eddie Carmichael. "Says there's a surprise, and I'll know by the end of the week. Says it might have something to do with his training as a Healer."

Daphne grinned. "A surprise, eh? Bet you're all tingly in your naughty areas!"

Blaise glared at her, even as he shoved a sealed parchment into Daphne's hands.

"Read this later. Preferably away from our other _esteemed_ colleagues. Preferably also away from any Slytherin whose last name starts with 'P' and ends with '-arkinson"!"

"Or Malfoy too, I reckon?" she asked. Blaise shrugged and nodded again. Daphne looked at the scroll, a bit befuddled at what it could be. "Er . . ."

A Confundus Charm couldn't have confused Daphne more.

Blaise grunted and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "It's all a part of my new status as 'Double Agent' Zabini."

"Something happen, Blaise?"

"Well," Blaise looked to and fro, "let's just say _it's starting._"

"Oh, _that's _not ominous at all!"

"Read it bloody later, all right? I'll get more information for us as I can."

Daphne looked at the Slytherin wizard, impressed.

"What?"

"It's . . . well, _you_."

Blaise gave a little start. "Me?"

"You're taking this seriously, aren't you? What was asked of you when we voted to do more here at the school."

Daphne knew she had to be on the highest alert, and choose her words carefully, as she and Blaise roamed the halls. They had to constantly be on the lookout for anything involving the Carrows, Snape, or the other Slytherins, either inside the dungeons or anywhere around the castle. They had been keeping their eyes on the students who wanted to emulate the Carrows. But it was rather tricky; any indication that they were spying could land them in the worst sort of trouble with the other Slytherins . . . not to mention the Death Eaters.

Blaise concealed a grin by coughing into his hand. "Investigation's fun," he mumbled.

Daphne smirked. Just as she was about to tease him, a vicious sound stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Come here, you little – _fucking – piece – of – SHIT_!"

Daphne and Blaise looked at each other and readied their wands.

(_Vincent Crabbe._)

Daphne was almost certain that he was indulging in his latest hobby — hexing the stuffing out of any students who had Muggles or Muggle-borns in their immediate family tree.

Daphne pressed against the wall and signaled with her head for Blaise to join her.

"_No_!" he mouthed. "I'm spying on him. I can't show myself now_—_"

She growled at him under breath, although she had to grudgingly admit that he had a point. "Coward," she whispered. Composing herself, Daphne readied her wand and stepped out into the corridor just in time to see Crabbe throwing another red curse at a Ravenclaw. The girl could have been no more than eleven or twelve years old.

"_CRUCIO!_"

She glared at him furiously, shocked that he could throw an Unforgivable at such a young, vulnerable witch. The Ravenclaw managed to duck it, but she was sobbing and trembling like a leaf in a storm.

"_Crabbe_!"

Daphne charged towards him, and yanked him as hard as she could. "Don't you _dare _use those spells against another student." She kept her wand pointed at his face, praying that her trembling wasn't obvious.

He sneered at her, eerily reminiscent of Amycus Carrow's awful expression whenever he was happy. "Think you scare me, _slag_?"

Daphne narrowed her eyes at his insult.

"Unforgivables aren't unforgivable now," he spat at her, "and Carrow's asked me to help him take care of any Mudbloods giving us trouble."

"And Snape's asked me to watch out for the students, so I'll listen to Head Death Eater Headmaster, which means I get to hex your plonker off, provided you were even born with one!"

Crabbe seemed to forget about the little girl as he turned his ire onto Daphne. He pointed his wand at her.

"_Sectum—_"

"_Expelliarmus!_" With a flick of her wand, Crabbe's flew out of his hand faster than he could complete his spell. He lunged to his right and scrambled after it.

She swished and jabbed her wand at him in two fluid motions. "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Crabbe froze in mid-crawl and landed, stiff as a board, on his gut.

Daphne aimed her wand at him; she needed to make sure he was going to be thoroughly knocked out.

"_Stupefy_!"

Crabbe's eyelids didn't shut, but his eyeballs stopped moving.

She stepped over his stunned and petrified body and approached the girl who was still crying. Kneeling before the girl, Daphne put her hands just below her shoulders. She silently reminded herself to send messages to the prefects, warning them to look out for any increased student-on-student attacks.

"I'm Daphne Greengrass. What's your name?"

The witch sniffed. "I-Is-Isadore L-Lancaster."

"Isadore, I'll walk with you and take you back to your house. But I'll also need you to tell me what happened here. With Crabbe." She patted the girl on her shoulder.

The girl nodded and wiped her eyes. "H-He overh-heard me talking to my friends about my d-dad. He's a butcher in London."

Daphne grimaced.

(_Also make sure to tell the prefects to keep talk about Muggle or Muggle-born parents confined to the dormitories._)

"A-and my friends r-ran, but he wouldn't stop taunting m-me . . ." Isadore started crying again. Daphne kept a hand on her shoulder, even as they gathered her book bag (torn from the skirmish with Crabbe) as she led the still-trembling girl onto the grand staircase.

"Did he hurt you with any spell?" Daphne asked in a calm, collected voice.

Isadore shook her head. "N-no. I . . . I . . . _wannagohome_!" She burst into tears. Daphne kept patting her on the back, trying to calm her down, but all she could manage were awkward splutters. There was no way to summon Padma or Anthony from here, so she kept trying to steer her over towards the direction of Ravenclaw Tower—

Several students ran past her and Isadore, nearly knocking Daphne off of the staircase. "Hey! Head Girl here, watch where yer—"

They paid no attention to her. "What did it say?" she heard one boy ask his friend.

"'Dumbledore's Army!' Somethin' somethin' . . . 'Carrow sucks!' Etcetera . . ."

A couple of girls laughed. "Wilma said there was some writing in the other classrooms too! 'Dumbledore's Army!' and 'We Support Harry!' Stuff like that."

A Hufflepuff boy grinned broadly. "Someone'd written 'We Remember You, Cedric Diggory!' in Muggle Studies. Alecto wasn't too happy about that."

Daphne ears perked up, and Isadore muffled a couple of sniffles, her curiosity slowly replacing her fright.

The group of witches and wizards bolted towards the second floor, and Daphne turned to her young companion. "Do you want to see what's going on?"

Isadore gave her a small smile and nodded. Daphne and she took the steps two-at-a-time. However, their progress was impeded by a large, buzzing group of students.

"Oh shite! Where's Carrow?"

"Dunno . . . but he is gonna _AK_ whomever did this!"

"Y' think?!"

Daphne couldn't see what all the fuss was about, although she knew it had something to do with the D.A. Isadore broke away from her and walked over to another group of Ravenclaws that Daphne deduced were her friends. Then, she spotted a familiar face.

"Blaise? What's going on?"

He merely gestured at the wall. "What do you think?"

Daphne glared at the utterly unhelpful Slytherin wizard, so she tried jumping up and down to get a better look. As she was in the back _and_ pathetically short, Daphne jumped up in short, little bursts, and her book bag kept slamming into her hip.

"_Ow . . . Ouch_! _Son of a hippogriff's whore_!"

Blaise snorted. "Need help, Short Stuff?"

Narrowing her eyes at her friend and fellow co-conspirator, Daphne allowed Blaise to pick her up to get as good a view of the wall as possible.

On a large Hogwarts bed sheet, written in huge black letters with Magical Morphing Ink, was the phrase:

_**DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY — THE REBELLION BEGINS!**_

_**LONG LIVE HARRY POTTER! **_

She grinned big and wide—

And then the writing on the wall wiggled and changed:

_**HEY DUNG-BREATH CARROW! **_

_**WE'VE GOT OUR EYES ON YOU!**_

Daphne shook her head, continuing to smile in earnest. "Those amazing _bastards_!"

"Oh, bollocks!"

Daphne grunted as Blaise dropped her abruptly. "Blaise! What the hell?"

Blaise muffled her with his hand and whispered harshly. "Carrow! He's coming!"

Daphne's eyes went wide, as she saw the Death Eater marching — no, _stomping _— towards the wall and the offensive banner. He pushed students away with no regard for whether he was harming them.

His face looked like he was ready to kill. But before he could start yelling for students' deaths, inspiration struck Daphne. She grinned. She could use this to her advantage.

(_Showtime, Greengrass!_)

"All of you! Out of my way!" Daphne shoved through the students, but as gently as possible while trying to make it appear she was being rough. She walked towards Carrow in big, long strides, ignoring his cruelly leering face and his stinking breath.

"Professor, sir," Daphne began assertively, almost aggressively, "I can only apologize for having this happen under my watch, but I can assure you, whoever sought to sully your walls will meet with swift punishment from me!" For emphasis, she brandished her wand in front of her face.

The anger in Carrow's face promptly melted and he sneered at Daphne. She could only reckon it was his version of an approving grin. "Well, Miss Greengrass. I am . . . _pleased_. You oppose this, do you?"

Daphne forced herself to smile and nod.

"If you can deal with these vandals, you _will_," he leaned forward to her, "have my gratitude,"

He leered at her in his awful way; Daphne wanted to retch.

She nodded again, and watched Carrow walk back into his office. She snapped her head toward the other students. "I need two volunteers! Older ones who know some cleaning spells. Preferably Ravenclaws."

"Over here, Greengrass!"

Daphne looked over at the direction of the very familiar voice, and once again, she tried to refrain from grinning, and hoped to all that was magical that she was not blushing. "Corner. Boot." She crossed her arms and smirked at the two boys. "You two volunteering? Think those thick Ravenclaw skulls of yours can ferret out a way to get this down?" She cocked an eyebrow at Michael and Terry, and pursed her lips together to hold back laughing.

Terry was the first to speak up. "Well, a wee one like you can't reach all the way up there." He held his arms in front of him, crooking them like they were claws. "Y'arms 're bloody useless!" He smirked at her, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

(_Idiot!_)

Michael rolled his eyes and refrained from smiling. "What do you need us to do for you?" He was trying his level best to not laugh.

"Take this bloody banner down! I don't care _how _you do it. Just get it done!"

(_I'm sure they'll use a little extra elbow grease on it—_)

(_Yeah, to keep it stuck to the wall!_)

Michael gave her mildly amused look. "We actually do have Potions with you in a few minutes."

Daphne realized she hadn't thought about that. "Oh . . . crap!" She thought about how she could get out of this little charade with Michael and Terry. She honestly couldn't see any way out of it, not without Carrow Cruciating one or the both of them for putting their classes ahead of cleaning up the corridor.

She girded herself and shouted at them. "The both of you volunteered your services to the school, so you'll stay here and do this or else I'll find you and hex your buttocks off!"

She watched as Michael and Terry both drew their lips in, stifling laughs — which allowed her to summon a good dollop of fake fury.

"And _don't_ _think_ I'm not going to be checking on your work! You had better take this seriously, or _I'll_ _whip you two to pieces_!"

"P-promise?" Michael said, unable to resist a cheeky grin.

Daphne spun around because she knew she was about to lose it. She started heading towards the Potions classroom. But just before she disappeared around the corner, she composed herself.

"I'm _sure _somebody will explain to Slughorn about the nature of your absence in his class today." She then grinned mischievously "_Whoever _it is might also give you your assignments if you're good, obedient Ravenclaws."

She pivoted and started walking, having to duck behind a tapestry to muffle the steady stream of guffaws pouring out of her body.

* * *

"All right!" Neville shouted triumphantly. "Great work, everyone." He gave them all a smile as he wiped the sweat off of his brow. The rest of Dumbledore's Army clapped and cheered.

They were in good spirits tonight. Their dueling drills had been productive and the D.A. really felt their spell work and dueling and defense was improving. Tonight, they had practiced non-verbal Shield Charms, an idea born from an intrepid Anthony Goldstein. He had managed to locate a book in the library written by a former Auror that detailed several useful self-defense techniques as well as skills and spells that would be valuable in defending others.

"We've got to learn some sort of targeting charm," Anthony ran over to the book, _The Magic of An Auror_, by Thaddeus Thungren, Order of Merlin, Third Class. He flipped to the Table of Contents, searching frantically for any such charm. Lavender Brown shut the book on him, practically catching his nose.

"Anthony," she said with a smile; he blushed as she looked at him, "calm down . . . relax. You're going to need it when Ernie and Susan finish up and you and Padma take over for them tonight."

Ernie and Susan were currently patrolling the fifth, sixth and seventh floors. It had been Daphne's idea to keep at least one set of D.A.-affiliated prefects patrolling in shifts, to keep an eye out for any malfeasance on the part of the Carrows or their sympathizers and to run interference if necessary. Anthony and Padma were to take over patrolling duties once the two Hufflepuff prefects returned to the Room of Requirement after their shift was done.

He nodded, and shot a glare at Michael Corner and Terry Boot as they snickered behind his back. "Yeah, you're right Lavender." He held up the book with a sheepish grin. "I'll look it up later—"

Neville wiped at his brow as he watched Hannah talking to Luna. This was not lost on Ginny and Daphne, as the two of them coughed fairly loudly to get his attention.

He blushed as he jogged over to them. "H-hey," Neville coughed, "Ernie and Susan should be back anytime now, right?" he asked Daphne

"Probably in the next few minutes."

"Good. If they want to work on dueling, Ginny, would you want to pair up and work with them?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. I wouldn't mind the extra practice."

Daphne snorted. "Well, there's actually a _shit-load_ of _shit_ to do still even if Ernie and Susan didn't want to practice. They could charm more Galleons for us, Duplicate those pesky parchments from the library, look up more defensive spells, discuss some rather pressing matters—" She and Ginny looked at each other in a rather ominous manner.

"Ah! Yeah. Daphne, you might wanna show him.

"Show me what?"

The Slytherin girl pulled out a parchment and shoved it towards Neville, practically spearing him with it. "Blaise found out about this. It's bad news. About the D.A."

He scanned her face. "What is it?" Neville took the parchment and unrolled it, his eyes sweeping down the rather long document, growing bigger and bigger, until, finally, he hissed in anger.

"For Merlin's sake! This is for real?"

Daphne pressed her lips together and blinked. "According to Blaise. It's been going on for a week. Ever since the first pro-D.A. graffiti appeared."

"Well, it was to be expected, right?" Ginny sucked in some air through her teeth. "I'm just surprised that Carrow's entrusting 'information gathering' to a troll like Crabbe—"

"Goyle's involved too, which means what's in that parchment, as voluminous as it may appear, is more falsification that fact." Blaise Zabini approached them, his hands casually shoved into his pockets, looking every bit as arrogant as he was reputed to be.

"Now, I _do_ expect Carrow to ask Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy to get involved, particularly when he realizes that, combined, Crabbe and Goyle have the mental capacity of an amoeba."

Neville winced as he looked up from the parchment. "And that's when we should _really_ worry, right?"

Blaise nodded. "Pansy and Draco'll both be more than competent to spy and provide Carrow with far more accurate information."

Daphne, Ginny and Neville released a collective sigh; this was not a good sign.

"How were you able to get this?" Neville asked Blaise after a moment of silent thought.

"I got Crabbe talking about what he thinks the Carrows are going to do about this 'Dumbledore's Army' nonsense." Blaise smirked. "He started this revolting bragging — and you know it has to be bad when _I'm _the one saying it's bad — that Carrow asked him to compile this list here, of any and all suspected members of the original D.A." A smug smile grew on Blaise's face. "A couple of Memory Charms and one Confundus Charm later, and Crabbe now thinks he has to draw up a list of magical pests to give to Carrow for Dark Arts in a week."

Neville returned his attention to the parchment, which was at least four feet long. "There is a _lot_ of information here about us—and Harry, Ron, Hermione, your brothers, Ginny . . ." He gaped at something. "What a load of shite!"

"Oh, you've gotten to one of Crabbe's more _creative _statements then?" Ginny smirked at Daphne.

"I'm personally shocked that Crabbe even has the imagination to make so much crap up! He even included names of students who weren't in the D.A. but who he and Goyle are targeting." Daphne shook her head. "You should see what he said about me. Bollocks that I ever let Marcus Flint into my knickers!"

Blaise snorted. "That bastard's completely bent! Came onto Eddie my fifth year." He rolled his eyes, and Ginny swore she saw Blaise's face grow a little red.

"Not Eddie's type, though," Daphne responded. "Right?"

This time, Blaise's blush was quite evident.

"Th- . . . those _bastards_!"

They looked at Neville whose face twisted from disbelief into anger and then into rage. He gritted his teeth. "Somebody's been talking to Bellatrix Lestrange about some of her past victims. The ones in St. Mungo's, who can't talk, who can't think, who don't even know what year it is, much less their own son—"

Ginny sucked in a breath as Daphne and Blaise looked at each other. "Nev, don't. It's lies, it's stupid . . . it's all crap." She put a hand on his arm. "We've got the parchment, and Blaise has managed to delay and distract Crabbe from his mission."

Neville shoved the parchment back towards the girls. "It's not going to last forever though, right?"

The three all nodded in agreement.

"Well," he looked at the others, "keep an eye on the usual suspects, and — Blaise, Daphne?"

The two Slytherins raised their eyebrows at the same time.

"If you hear about anyone spying for Carrow, get back to us straightaway."

Daphne nodded. "Got it, o' fearless leader!" She smirked at Neville, and he rolled his eyes. Ginny snickered at both of them and was about to say something, when suddenly the doors to the Room of Requirement burst wide open.

"Help! They got someone!" Ernie Macmillan's voice rang out. He and Susan Bones were holding up a little girl who was clutching her chest, close to passing out. Anthony and Lavender, the two closest to the doors, quickly shut them. The other members of Dumbledore's Army ran over to see what had happened.

"We need _help _over here!" Susan shouted to the Room at large.

Ginny and Daphne looked at the girl Susan had in her arms. Ginny noticed, with a sickening feeling growing in her stomach, that the entire front of her jumper was covered in blood.

"Crabbe and Goyle," Ernie panted, as he Conjured a soft mattress for the nearly-unconscious girl. "They got her as she was coming out of a sixth floor classroom."

Susan shook her head, frightened but calm. "I just wanted to get her somewhere where she could lie down. I thought we could summon Pomfrey from here."

"Oh Salazar!" Daphne kneeled on the other side of the girl. "Isadore? Oh no! Isadore? Isadore, can you hear us?" She picked up Isadore Lancaster's small hand. "Crabbe was taunting her a few days ago." She gave the girl several rapid pats on her face. "She's really cold."

Ginny shook her head. There was no time to wait. "Susan, I don't think Pomfrey would know exactly _how_ to get inside this room."

"Well, _someone_ needs to get her!" Susan said desperately.

Ginny froze. There _was_ someonethat they could trust, someone who could Apparate and Disapparate within the castle's walls — and who was completely devoted to Harry Potter.

Ginny yelled, right before Neville and Anthony went to open the door to summon Pomfrey. "No, wait! I've got it!" She flung the doors wide open. Looking down both directions of the corridor, making sure no one was around, she opened her mouth. "_DOBBY_!"

Instantly, there were two pops instead of only one that she was expecting. Ginny looked down, her mouth gaping in shock.

There, standing below her, practically on top of her feet, was Dobby. But he was not alone. A much older, and very familiar-looking, house-elf stood next to him, clothed in a slightly smudged dishtowel bearing the Black family crest. The older elf seemed nervous and twitchy.

"_Kreacher_?" Ginny shouted. "Dobby, you were supposed to come alone! He's not welcome—"

Dobby bobbed his head up and down rapidly. "Dobby understands, Miss Wheezy, but Dobby has also been working with Kreacher lately! Kreacher has been keeping Dobby up-to-date about the great Harry Potter's whereabouts!" The house-elf spoke rapidly, but Ginny was able to piece together Dobby's last statement.

She felt her heart stop.

"Ha-Harry?" Ginny turned to the older house-elf, all suspicion and thought irrationally flying out of her head. "You know about Harry, Kreacher?"

The gnarled, wrinkly house-elf nodded, not directly looking at Ginny. She had a million questions flying back and forth in her head, and was just about to speak, when—

"Ginny! What's going on there?" Daphne's sharp voice interrupted.

Ginny jumped. "Bloody hell! Dobby, can you get Pomfrey and Apparate her right back here? I'll let you in. Tell her we've got a student who's lost a lot of blood. Unknown spell."

"Dobby will be quick about it, Miss Wheezy! Kreacher," Dobby said, "will stay here and listen to Miss Wheezy and her friends because they are friends of your Master Harry!" And with that, Dobby Disapparated.

She turned to the older house-elf. "Kreacher, get in here and sit down." She spoke in a stern, authoritative voice. Kreacher merely mumbled something under his breath and shuffled his feet slowly, walking inside the Room. Ginny stayed close to the door and observed the status of the scene inside. Dumbledore's Army stayed close to Isadore, with both Susan and Daphne whispering to her, trying to comfort her. Ginny watched as Susan smoothed back Isadora's hair off of her clammy forehead. Ernie paced back and forth, biting his thumbnail nervously.

And another _POP_ tore through the air. All heads snapped around to see who had just Apparated.

Dobby had arrived, but he wasn't alone.

And he wasn't with Pomfrey.

Eddie Carmichael shook off the Side-Along Apparition, his handsome face flush, his dark, curly hair casually mussed. He was dressed in his white Healer robes with "Trainee" embroidered over his right breast just above a small red cross.

"Is there an injured girl here?"

Ginny stared at him with wide eyes. She nodded soundlessly, gaping.

(_This was unexpected!_)

Eddie nodded and walked past her, moving with strong, purposeful steps into the Room and over to Isadore Lancaster. He set down his supplies, ignoring the shocked gasps and whoops of glee and approving laughter igniting around him.

"_Carmichael_! What are you doing here?" Terry Boot asked him, a huge grin on his face for Ravenclaw's former Head Boy. Anthony, Michael and Padma, too, were all smiling broadly at their esteemed former House-mate. Luna Lovegood waved brightly at Eddie.

He merely held his hand up, and continued to wave his wand over Isadore's chest, uttering an incantation that Ginny thought sounded like a song. Eddie never looked up, and the room quieted down as they watched him work.

Ginny looked over at Daphne, who smiled — genuinely _smiled_ at Eddie, warm and familiar as if they were old friends — which would've surprised the Gryffindor . . .

Had her eyes not happened to float over to Blaise Zabini.

He stared at Eddie, his mouth slightly open, his eyes growing wet. The corners of his mouth seemed to turn upwards slightly, shaking just so as if he was stopping himself from smiling.

The longer she watched Blaise, Ginny realized what she was seeing.

(_He's . . . . Oh my Godric!_)

(_Blaise is in love with Eddie!_)

(_Wait. If Blaise is seeing somebody, and he's in love with Eddie . . . does that mean . . . ?_)

(_Eddie Carmichael's gay?! GAY?_)

Ginny couldn't help but sigh with regret.

(_But he's so handsome!_)

She snorted.

(_Figures all the handsome ones are gay, taken, or out trying to save the world!_)

Eddie Carmichael had just finished patching up Isadore, and she was awake, telling him "Thank you so much," and squeezing his hand. As Eddie made sure she was going to be all right and put his supplies back into his bag, he looked up at the rest of the students.

"Sorry. I couldn't be interrupted while I Healed Isadore." Eddie grinned at them. "But yes, I'm back at Hogwarts. I'm helping out Pomfrey. She put in for another Healer, but St. Mungo's can only spare Trainees instead of fully qualified Heal—"

Eddie stopped talking. Ginny followed his eyes.

Blaise was already walking toward Eddie, as if in slow motion.

"How long have you been here? When in the world were you going to tell me? How long are you going to be here?"

It was quite clear that both Blaise and Eddie had completely forgotten that there were others in the room . And everyone, other than Daphne, looked completely confused.

"Okay," Eddie slowly stood up and held out his hands. "I actually started yesterday, but Pomfrey had me the entire time for orientation and reading up on the students' files. I was going to tell you today, and, well, now you know. And I'm here for as long as Pomfrey needs me, which she estimates might be as long as school remains in session."

Blaise stopped walking. He let his smile spread across his face.

And, to Ginny's shock, Blaise grabbed Eddie's head and kissed him, fully and intensely, on his lips.

In front of Dumbledore's Army.

Daphne shook her head in amused exasperation at the pair. Hannah, Lavender and Parvati smiled and squealed at them. The three Ravenclaw wizards stared at the two boys, gaping in astonishment.

"_No – way_!" Terry Boot practically blurted out, staring at Eddie Carmichael, former Head Boy, who was idolized by the entire male population of their House. Anthony nudged him to shut him up.

Eddie blushed violently as the kiss ended. "Um . . . Blaise?"

"They know. I told them." Blaise said, his eyes roaming all over his boyfriend's face and touching his cheek.

"O-oh-oh-kay?" Eddie laughed nervously, but he brought his hands up to the small of Blaise's back and embraced him with closed eyes and blissful countenance.

The other students had very different reactions to the clinch. Seamus Finnigan and Padma Patil both turned around, shaking their heads in disgust. Luna Lovegood's smile simply widened as she stared at them dreamily. Ernie Macmillan grinned but averted his eyes. And Neville regarded them with an amused, but very surprised, grin

Susan Bones merely looked at the two boys, and shook her head with a sad expression.

"Why does it always have to be the fit ones?"

* * *

"Kreacher," Ginny asked carefully, "how long was Harry at Grimmauld Place? And how were Ron and Hermione? You saw them too, right? They were with him?"

The old house-elf looked at his small audience of Daphne, Ginny, Neville and Luna. The rest of Dumbledore's Army had disbanded, with the Ravenclaws escorting Isadore back to their tower.

Now, the remaining four students sat around the newest member of Hogwarts' kitchen staff. Dobby had remained too, nudging Kreacher along.

"Kreacher has nothing to worry about with telling Miss Wheezy and her friends about Harry! Dobby will make sure Kreacher is safe! Dobby will make sure that Kreacher will not be harmed!"

"Ma-Master Harry P-Potter," the old house-elf croaked, "and his companions, the Weasley boy and the Mu- . . . er, G-Granger girl, stayed at Grimmauld Place from the first night of August to the first Monday of September."

"We're they all right?" Daphne asked now, her voice low and steady.

Kreacher nodded. "Kreacher took care of his new Master. Kreacher made them good and delicious meals and . . . and told them what happened with my old Master Regulus."

Ginny looked at the others, who shrugged. "Kreacher," she started, "what did Harry want to know about your old Master?"

But he wasn't listening to Ginny. Instead, he pulled on the tufts of white hair nestled in his ears, sobbing as he did so. "Kreacher did _wrong_ by Master Harry! Kreacher does not deserve the kindness Master Harry and Master Harry's most wonderful friends have shown him!" And to Ginny's horror, Kreacher scurried over to the nearest wall and started bashing his head against it.

"_Kreacher_! Stop! Don't!" Ginny pleaded. To her relief, Neville came up behind the self-flagellating house-elf and held him back, restraining him from further injury.

Ginny was just about to say something more, but Luna Lovegood moved forward and sat next to her.

"Kreacher," Luna said in a dreamy voice, "you should be very proud of yourself! You took care of Harry, Ronald and Hermione. You cooked them meals, right?"

The house-elf nodded. "Kr-Kreacher gave them g-good f-f-foods." He spoke in a broken voice.

"And you kept the house clean for them?"

"Kreacher made sure that the house was spotless! Kreacher scrubbed and scrubbed until Kreacher's skin turned raw!"

"And have you told anyone other than Dobby or us that Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger stayed at Grimmauld Place?"

At this Kreacher growled. "Kreacher has done no such thing! Kreacher has kept Master Harry and Mister Wheezy and Miss Granger's secrets! But that does not mean that the bad men weren't able to come and enter Master Harry's house! They invaded and ransacked Grimmauld Place!" His head dropped. "Kreacher is a coward! Kreacher cannot go back until it is safe!"

"You shouldn't go back there," Luna said with a smile on her face. "You can help us and help Harry out if you stay here, and you'll also stay out of trouble!"

The house-elf looked at Luna. "Kreacher would like to stay at Hogwarts! Master Harry told Kreacher before he disappeared that if anything should happen, or if bad people come to the Noble House of Black, Kreacher must go to Hogwarts and find Dobby the house-elf! That Dobby could help Kreacher!"

Dobby nodded with pride. "The Great Harry Potter trusts Dobby! Dobby will do anything the most wonderful Harry Potter asks!"

"So here, Kreacher waits until Master Harry summons Kreacher. If Master Harry asked, Kreacher would go to him. But there is much to assist with here!" His face creaked apart, and Ginny watched as he attempted to smile. "Bad people are here at Hogwarts, and Master Harry would want Kreacher and Dobby to assist however possible!"

Ginny felt a lump in her throat. "I think he would. I know he's probably worried about the students here, especially under Snape's regime—"

"Kreacher saw Snape at Grimmauld Place once! At the beginning of the summer before Master Harry showed up!"

Ginny felt her pulse racing and her eyes bulge out of their sockets. "Did Snape try to harm you in any way? Did he try—"

"Snape saw Kreacher, but he shoved Kreacher out of his way and started looking through the rooms!"

Daphne leaned forward, struggling to understand what the house-elf had observed. "He didn't harm you?"

He shook his head. "But Kreacher saw Snape in Master Sirius' bed chambers. He was holding a letter in his hands. Kreacher thought—" he paused, creasing his small, elfin brow.

"What did you see?" Daphne asked slowly, trying to coax the answer out of him.

He took in a deep breath, and began talking again. "Kreacher saw Snape rip part of a letter off."

Ginny grasped Daphne's arm.

(_The letter?_)

"Snape was kneeling on the floor and Kreacher could see him holding the slip of paper from the letter. And Snape seemed . . . Kreacher thought that Snape was—"

"What?" Daphne asked breathlessly.

"W-was crying. . . . A-and he was muttering a name over and over to himself."

Ginny and Daphne both shut their eyes. They already knew what the name was, but they needed to hear it from the house-elf's mouth.

"What name, Kreacher?" Ginny and Daphne spoke together in unison.

And the old house-elf answered with only one word: "'Lily'."


	27. Chapter 26: Slughorn Speaks

**A/N:** Thanks to my beta, stella8h8chang, as usual. She is fabulous. Thank you so much for all of your reviews, support, and putting this story on your favorites and alerts. I can't tell you how much it means to me.

Also, I'm updating both my _**Living in Hell **_and _**Lessons **_ series either today or tomorrow, and I've got two new one-shots. _**Monsters and Heroes**_, my Halloween Challenge one-shot focused on Michael Corner. It's an outtake of this work, taking place on -- wait for it -- Halloween.

My second one-shot is _**Shelter in the Storm**_, and my first foray into Draco/Astoria. It's a challenge piece for the Harry Potter Rare Pair Shorts LJ community.

I own nothing.

* * *

**Chapter 26: Slughorn Speaks**

Daphne was deep into page one-hundred and fifty of _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_, thinking that perhaps there had been some mention of Grindelwald early in in the book. The information from Kreacher about Snape and Lily had reinvigorated Daphne's own investigation as to why Snape had that piece of a letter in his possession.

("_Could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I think her mind's going, personally! Love, Lily."_)

(_What connection was there between this "her", Grindelwald, and Lily?_)

(_If it's even Harry Potter's 'Lily'—_)

But the more Daphne delved into the mystery, the more evident it was becoming that 'Lily' in the letter was Lily, Harry's mum. That the letter Snape had stolen was in Sirius Black's possession seemed to cement this fact, as there was only one Lily that both men knew—

(_But what does it mean that he was crying—_)

She felt the distinctly unpleasant sensation of a pair eyes boring into her.

Daphne reluctantly tore her attention away from the page and looked up. Sitting across from her, having taken a chair at her table without asking, was Ivy Wellington, a Slytherin fifth year student whom Daphne had talked to last year about Harry Potter and supporting his side. It turned out that Harry already had Ivy's support.

Daphne looked at the other younger Slytherin girl . . . and then a few seconds later, it hit her.

"_Oh bloody hell_!"

"Hello Daphne!" Ivy said, with a broad smile. Her hands rested on the table, her fingers intertwined together.

"You scared me," Daphne panted, clutching at her chest as if she had had the biggest cardiac infarction in the history of magic.

"I didn't mean to scare you. I haven't had the chance to talk to you since term began."

Daphne composed herself and looked at the tall, black-haired girl. She never noticed Ivy's rather huge, dark eyes. Eyes that were just a tad bit on the freakish side . . . .

This plus the fact that the girl seemed to know everything going on around her made Ivy one rather odd duck.

"Since we're in the common room, Daphne, I think it would be best if you cast a Privacy Charm so people won't be able to hear us talk."

"Oh? _Oh_! _Muffliato_!"

"So you and Blaise Zabini are a part of this Dumbledore's Army."

Daphne nearly choked on her own spit. "Wh-wh- . . . er, huh? N-no . . . no, er . . ."

"It's okay. I haven't told anyone. Although I must admit, I was a bit startled about Blaise. He did strike me more as the purely anti-Muggle-born type." Ivy shrugged. "That was a very pleasant surprise!"

Daphne could only stare at Ivy and shake her head. "Can I just ask you, Ivy; how do you seem to know _things_?"

Ivy smiled at Daphne with a matter-of-factness about her. "It amazes me that creatures who have eyes and ears very rarely use them."

Daphne furrowed her brow. So much of Ivy Wellington confused her, but it also made her think Ivy and Luna Lovegood should meet and become 'best friends forever'.

"Er . . . okay. What do you mean?"

"You and Blaise are together all the time. And I heard he helped Neville Longbottom when Carrow tortured him—"

"So you do think that Carrow using the Cruciatus Curse was heinous?"

Ivy nodded aggressively, as if to demonstrate her distaste. "I also saw Blaise quietly applaud Neville when he came back for breakfast. He's also been going after other boys, like Crabbe and Goyle, to find out what Carrows' plans are for you."

Daphne's eyes widened in horror. "You _know_ about that?"

"I'm the only one who does, Daphne. And I haven't said a word to anybody else. But, I want you to know that, if you need help with anything, I can help you." Ivy gave her another wide, mysterious smile. "I like research and finding out facts!"

Daphne snorted. "You remind me of someone else who does too."

"Hermione Granger?"

"_Gah_!" Daphne slapped her hands on the table. "Stop doing that! I don't like feeling I'm having my mind read."

"Okay. I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable."

"No . . . S-sorry for yelling." Daphne picked up her book again, and flipped it back and forth in her hands. She smirked. "Well, little Miss Factoid. I don't suppose you'd know anything about Snape?"

"What do you want to know?"

Daphne gave Ivy a very curious look. "Well," she began cautiously, not wanting to tell her too much, "I'm just interested to know about his past. Like, whether he knew Sirius Black? Did they know a 'Lily', either when they went to school here, or shortly after they left?"

"Actually, my parents both went here, about that time."

Daphne's eyes grew huge. "Really?" She sat up, giving Ivy her full attention.

Ivy nodded. "I know Professor McGonagall was around. I believe they hired Professor Flitwick in the middle of the seventies. But, since you're in Slytherin, you might find the best place to start would be with Professor Slughorn!"

Daphne chuckled in disbelief. "Oh, of course! I can't believe I didn't know. You mean, he was Potions Master when Snape was here as a student?"

Ivy again nodded, smiling even more broadly than before. "My father wasn't in any of his classes, but my mother was. She was a year ahead of Snape." Ivy wrinkled her nose. "Mother never liked him. She was in Ravenclaw, and one of her friends was Muggle-born. Snape hung around other students who constantly made fun of Michelle—"

"Er, who?"

"Oh, Michelle Lindley, my mother's Muggle-born friend. She's actually my godmother. I've listened to her and my parents talk about Hogwarts back then. Quite a few similarities between then and now, you know? Due to the war."

Daphne gulped and creased her brow. "You're a bit odd, you know that?"

Ivy cocked her head to her right. "Why do you think I'm odd?"

"Well, you just very matter-of-fact about everything. You seem to honestly support Harry, which is good, and you've got all this information just stored in your head."

Ivy leaned forward, a mysterious smile plastered on her face. "I like observation. I like watching other people. I sort of consider it a hobby."

Daphne nodded. "Well, Ivy, I guess what I'd ask of you is keep your eyes and ears open. If you hear something, anything suspicious, let either Blaise or me know. Under no circumstances are you to rely on Draco Malfoy. All right?"

"Certainly!" Ivy gave Daphne a bright nod, and stood up out of her chair. The younger Slytherin girl walked away from the table, leaving Daphne to shake off the encounter as much as reasonably possible.

She picked her book back up and looked around the Slytherin common room. Ever since the beginning of term, Daphne had found herself staying away from her House as much as possible, using only her dormitory for sleeping and changing clothes. She'd kip a spot on a couch if Blaise or Millicent were lumbering about. If she was anywhere else, it was either classes, the library, on patrol, or in the Room of Requirement.

(_Or with Michael in some fun, but secluded spot!_)

And, Daphne found that she was usually more productive during moments of relative quiet.

(_Except when I'm with Michael. Then all bets are off!_)

(_Not to mention my top!_)

Letting out a very loud sigh, she stuffed her things into her book bag, and made her way to the library, hoping that she would be afforded the peace that she needed to continue reading . . .

* * *

. . . However, she was proven wrong almost as soon as she opened her book to her spot.

"_Psst_! _Daphne_!" Millicent Bulstrode whispered harshly from a nearby bookstack.

Daphne huffed, rolled her eyes, and shut her book, slamming it down a bit harder than Madam Pince would've liked.

"Quiet, you _heathen_!" the mad librarian hissed. Millicent ducked behind the shelving, hiding from the irate librarian's view. "Books are to be treated with care, not as an ape's plaything!"

Daphne and Millicent, peeking from behind the thick wood of the stacks, both watched as Madam Pince was safely out of earshot. Millicent then scurried towards Daphne's table and pulled out the seat on Daphne's right.

"Cast a Privacy Charm," Millicent demanded.

Gritting her teeth, because she did not take orders from her peers well, Daphne cast yet another Muffliato Charm around them.

"If I only had a Knut for all the Muffliatoes I've cast today alone—"

"Pansy's up to something."

"You know something?" Daphne's annoyance flew right out of the library's long windows and she sat forward.

"I saw her talking with Amycus Carrow in between classes. I used your Ear," Millicent showed Daphne the Extendable Ear that she had given her to help with eavesdropping, "and I ducked behind a tapestry. Carrow put his hand on her shoulder and he told her, 'Your work will be much appreciated, Miss Parkinson'."

"But," Daphne shook her head, "did you hear what Carrow wanted Pansy to do?"

Millicent flattened her mouth and leaned forward to talk in hushed tones. "All I could make out was that Carrow wanted Pansy to find information on some students."

Daphne hissed, and fell backwards into her chair. "My guess is Carrow's still looking for information about former students who might or might not be in Dumbledore's Army." She tapped her nails absent-mindedly on the table. "I already knew about Crabbe and Goyle. I was expecting Pansy too, but I was hoping it wouldn't be so soon."

Millicent nodded. "Crabbe's been on a tear lately. He's been attacking the younger students lately, desperate to prove himself to Carrow."

Daphne narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean 'prove'?"

"That he's not Malfoy. That Vincent Crabbe'll be a better Death Eater than Malfoy ever was. That's what Theo's told me anyways."

Daphne suppressed a shudder; the thought of Nott and Millicent doing things together was just a bit too much to handle, particularly since she had just eaten a huge, partially digested breakfast.

"What about us?"

Millicent's voice startled Daphne out of her thoughts. "What about you?"

"_Theodore_ and I." Millicent gave Daphne a very exasperated look. "I've been running defense for you the last few weeks, not to mention assisting you last year. I've also been relaying information about what the next generation of Death Eaters've been up to. I want a bigger piece of the pie."

"When you say 'bigger piece'—?"

"I want _in_. In with Dumbledore's Army, and before you say you don't know anything about them," Millicent wiggled her finger indignantly as Daphne was just about to argue with her, "I know better. I was in that damn Inquisitorial Squad our fifth year."

Daphne fumed, perhaps unreasonably given the developments of the past year. "That's right. You _were _a part of that, weren't you?" She narrowed her eyes at the other girl. "A right thorn in our side, you were."

"And I thought you'd understand that sometimes, people make mistakes. I wanted to be a part of their group, Daphne. I wanted to belong." Millicent glared right back at Daphne and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "And it didn't make any difference. I still heard Pansy and Draco talk about me behind my back."

Daphne leaned back and nodded very slowly. "Fine. We're past that now."

The other girl raised her eyebrow. "Well, the older Slytherin students suspect that you were a part of it, even if they don't have any proof that you were. That means Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and Malfoy." Millicent waved her hand dismissively. "Go on and throw Davis in with that lot. She's doing everything she can to remain in Pansy's good graces these days."

Daphne rubbed at her now pounding head. "I've got a lot to think about."

"Well think hard and fast! This is something I want—"

"And I can't make any promises! Sweet-effin'-Salazar, I am _not_ confirming nor denying anything that might be going on with the students, but let me be very clear, Millicent," Daphne said in a measured voice, lowered to emphasize just how serious she was, "with something like this? It might even be best that you _don't _do anything more than what you're doing right now. There's no telling how bad it's going to get, and you're helping, but you're also keeping your distance. You're safe. Both you and Nott are safe. So, isn't that better, ultimately? Help, without getting hurt?"

Millicent opened her mouth, but seemed to think better about what she was going to say. She slouched in her seat, her fingernails scratching at the grain of the wood of the table.

"Millicent?"

"I don't like being told _not_ to fight. I don't like watching others get hurt and feel like I can't help. I want to do this for my Auntie."

Daphne swallowed. Looking at her companion at this moment, she couldn't help but feel a kinship with the girl. If she was being truthful, Millicent Bulstrode was no different from her or Ginny Weasley or Neville or Luna . . .

But was it worth the risk? Not only to her, but to allow the identity of the D.A. to go beyond the students who were already involved? Involve more Slytherins other than Blaise Zabini?

Blaise was different. Daphne had a more personal connection to him. She had been privy to his deepest secret, something that he couldn't reveal to just anyone, particularly in the current climate at Hogwarts and in the country. And Daphne had worked long and hard to talk to Blaise about his own misconceptions about Muggle-borns. She had constantly emphasized how similar prejudices towards Muggle-borns and homosexuality were, and the more Blaise had come to terns with his feelings for Eddie, the more he truly started to see that he had just as much to lose in the current regime as Muggle-borns.

Millicent Bulstrode, however, was different. She might have lost a loved one, but there simply wasn't the comfort level, the sense of something shared and something gained that Daphne felt with Blaise. It wasn't enough to convince Daphne that including Millicent or Nott was a good idea.

"Look, I'll see what I can do. And I'll tell whomever needs to know about what you've been doing, Millicent. That's all I can promise."

She looked at Daphne with a mild expression. "All right. I won't push the issue."

"You just want to feel like you're doing enough, don't you?" Daphne kept her eyes on the other girl; she wouldn't look up at her. Instead, she remained completely fixated on the wooden swirls of the table.

"Millicent?"

She looked up at her.

Daphne smiled. "_Thank_ _you_. And I mean it. For everything you've been doing."

Millicent nodded, but Daphne noted the smile on her own face as well.

* * *

Ginny was sitting at the library, her attentions divided between N.E.W.T.-level Charms and several back issues of_ The Quibbler_, from June of this past year to its latest issue.

"What the—?" Ginny squinted as she read the second issue of _The Sedition Act, _as reprinted in Xenophilius Lovegood's newspaper. "Lord _Sucking Snortlebugs_?"

"BOO!"

"_Ack_!" The papers flew out of Ginny's hand as Daphne scared her right out of her seat. "Godric, Daphne! Y'need to have a cowbell on or something."

The Slytherin girl laughed. "Sorry. I didn't mean . . . well, actually, I _did _mean to scare ya. Reading Lovegood's rag, eh?"

Ginny smirked. "This 'rag' is the only one out there actually speaking out against the Ministry, publishing your articles about Muggle-borns, and supporting 'Undesirable Number One'. So you should show a little respect."

Daphne snorted. "Fair point, Weasley. Hey, do you have a moment?" She didn't wait for a response. Instead, she waved her wand, and cast the Muffliato Charm around their table. She took a seat directly across from Ginny.

"Carrow's using Crabbe, Goyle _and_ Pansy Parkinson to gather information about the old version of Dumbledore's Army. Millicent Bulstrode just told me, probably no more than five minutes ago."

Ginny let out a very impressive stream of creative Weasley swears.

Daphne smirked. "That's quite a bit more extreme than the reaction I had."

Ginny blew out a breath. "So, they're not going to let up, are they?"

"Not until they've got information on everyone."

"Oh . . _. fuck-a-goat_!" Ginny rubbed her head, pushing her fingers into her forehead with more than a little force. "Well, we've got to get those parchments then."

Daphne nodded. "We've also got to do something about the names in them too."

Ginny thought about the old Dumbledore's Army. What would they do in a situation like this? How would they handle it? Hermione would probably think of some clever Concealment Spell or Document Alteration Charm. Ron and Harry would suggest to hex the whole lot of them. And her brothers, Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell . . . well, they'd probably all gang up on them, nick whatever information they had, and—

Ginny let out a gasp. "Oh, _of course_! Why didn't we think of it before?" Ginny smacked her head, rather loudly.

"What?"

"Steal whatever they've got on us, change all of the names they have to older members of the D.A., the ones no longer at Hogwarts, and give Carrow _those _documents!"

Daphne looked at Ginny, her brow creased. She nodded slowly. "It could work. But we'd have to make sure that we intercept them before Carrow gets 'em."

"Right. Would you be able to handle it?"

A smile spread slowly across the Slytherin's face. "I could give it a whirl. I'll get Millicent to help. Make her feel involved."

Ginny looked at Daphne suspiciously. "Are you thinking of officially involving _Millicent Bulstrode_ in the D.A.?"

She snorted. "I reckon I've already used up my 'Sign-One-Up-Free' Card on Blaise." She sighed. "I told her I'd ask people, but, well, I don't think I've got the best judgment about these things.

"What do you mean? Blaise seems like he's been all right—"

"I don't mean Blaise."

"Then what?"

Daphne took a breath. "It's the pamphlets. They were my idea, you know? I thought they were going to be enough, but," she shrugged hopelessly, "they're not. They're pointless and stupid _and _bloody illegal. It feels like whatever I was doing was all for nothing and that I'm not doing enough."

"That's not true though."

Daphne shrugged, but, to Ginny's dismay, her face looked even more morose. "I thought I'd do this cute little act of rebellion, spread the word around that Muggle-borns don't steal powers, and it'd be enough." Her head fell onto her fist and she propped her elbow up on the table. "But this thing's bigger than my crappy ideas, than even the D.A., because of the Carrows and Snape and the Ministry, and You-Know-Who." She let out a breath. "And we still don't know what Snape is about—"

Ginny bit her lip. "I know what Kreacher said about Snape showing up at Grimmauld Place was _bizarre_—"

"To say the least," Daphne snorted.

"But he's a murderer. He killed Dumbledore. And he's working for Lord _Kneazle-Fart_."

Daphne chuckled, as did Ginny. Both girls had to admit that figuring out funny nicknames for Voldemort was an entertaining way to pass the time.

"Daphne," Ginny said, after a couple more laughs, "all it means is that he knew Lily, he's capable of crying, and, at the end of the day, he's still a killer." She looked at her co-conspirator. She was staring at Ginny with a sad expression, but she managed a smile.

"You're right. I can't stop thinking about it. And why Dumbledore would've said I was like him."

Ginny leaned forward, her face serious and her voice calm and steady. "Dumbledore was human. Just like the rest of us. He made mistakes. But you are nothing — _absolutely_ _nothing — _like Snape."

Daphne nodded absent-mindedly, her face still filled with a deep and confused sadness.

A flicker of movement alerted Ginny that they were not alone. Tensing up, she looked over Daphne's shoulders . . . and immediately relaxed.

"Daphne, lift the Muffliato Charm."

"What? Why?"

"Just trust me."

Daphne did, and that's when—

"_DONTTURNAROUNDBEHINDYOU_!"

"_AAACK_!" Daphne yelped and clutched her chest as she turned to glare at Michael Corner and Terry Boot standing over her, guffawing hysterically. Anthony Goldstein came up behind them, trying to keep himself from laughing.

"Sorry," Michael said as he grinned and leaned forward to give Daphne a peck on her forehead. "Terry's idea. Blame him." Daphne turned to glare at Terry, but the effect was marred by a grin threatening to pop out on her lips.

Terry shrugged, turning a chair around to straddle the seat. "Wanted to check your alertness and response time." He snorted. "Painfully pathetic, Greengrass!"

Anthony sat next to Ginny. "We've finished the Galleons." He unfolded his palm, revealing three shiny gold Galleons. "The Protean Charm that we developed will allow each person with a Galleon to send messages on their coins. Before, it was just Harry, Ron and Hermione who could do that." He shrugged. "One for you, Ginny. And Daphne," he addressed her, his smile faltering a bit, "here's yours. And you'll probably see Zabini before I do, right?"

She mumbled a thank you to Michael's best mate and took the Galleons from him.

There was a cough from the right of her. "Um, Tony?" She looked over at Michael, who was nudging his head towards her. "Wasn't there something else you wanted to give to Daphne?"

Anthony glared fleetingly at Michael, who smirked at his friend. Blinking, sighing, and folding his hands together, Anthony looked at Daphne and pushed his lips out, mashing his face around as if he felt awkward about something.

"I-I'm . . . I ap-pologize."

Daphne's brows shot up. "Eh?"

Anthony let out an exasperated breath. "I _apolo_gize, Daphne. For," he swirled his hands about him, "just . . . not . . . you know!"

Michael groaned. "_Tony_," he said in a warning tone, "come on."

"Anthony," Daphne propped her arms up on the table, "I'm afraid I've got no idea what you're talking about." She intertwined her fingers and rested her chin on the shelf her hands made. "Kindly spell it out for me, please?" She batted her eyes in a horrifically mocking way. Michael and Terry both grunted and laughed into their hands and Ginny cupped her mouth.

Anthony gritted his teeth. "I was wrong about you. For not trusting you, even though you've been in Dumbledore's Army from the very beginning." His eyes fell to the table, on a dark knot directly in front of his hands. "_And_, I should've been more supportive of you and Mike. I'm sorry I was so . . ."

Daphne narrowed her eyes but smiled in a smug way towards him. "So _what_, Anthony?"

"Judgmental, all right? I'm sorry I was so judgmental." He scrunched his face up and crossed his arms. "No one's perfect. I need to remember that."

He thrust his hand out in front of him.

"Truce?"

Daphne looked at his hand, then she looked at his face. And she smirked.

"Truce." She grabbed his hand, giving it one pump. "For now."

Michael coughed and raised an eyebrow at Daphne.

"What?"

"Well, go on." Michael grinned lopsidedly at her. "You've been just as judgmental about him over this past year." He gestured to his best friend. "I think Anthony should hear it from you too!"

Daphne slouched and rolled her eyes, clearly projecting with her face that this was the lastthing she wanted to do. "I'm _sorry_ . . . too. For saying you were a stuck-up prude butt-licking brown-noser," Daphne grinned as Terry barked out a laugh, earning him a thump on the back from Michael, "even if you are best friends with Michael and for every _bad _thing I ever thought about you. Because you're not _that _bad."

Anthony glared at her . . . but his face slowly started to soften. The right corner of his mouth turned upwards.

"So . . . both of us forgive the other, then?"

"I guess so." Daphne smiled back at him. "But so help you if you piss me off—!"

"Which I'm sure will be inevitable." Anthony interrupted her, his own smirk crossing his face.

* * *

Michael and Daphne had done quite a thorough job of ditching the others back at the library, but for very different reasons.

"Oh, come on! I can't think of anything _less _fun than going to see Slughorn!" he whinged, gently pulling on her hands to guide her to the Astronomy Tower for a little "alone time".

"Michael, see Slughorn _first_. Then snog!"

"How about bypass Slughorn all together and then snog?"

Daphne smiled as he pressed his lips against hers. "I have to see Slughorn. It's important to me."

Michael simply looked at her, and kissed her one last time just as they approached Horace Slughorn's office. "Fine. You win." He smiled, sighed, and gave her one more peck on the lips before gesturing to the door.

"After you, my fair Miss Greengrass!"

Daphne snorted. "I hate that 'fair Miss Greengrass' crap!" but she couldn't contain her own giggling. Breathing in two deep breaths, Daphne knocked loudly at the office door.

It was a few moments before her knocks were answered. The door opened, revealing the short, silvery-haired, portly Potions Master. He almost didn't see Daphne at first, but he looked nervously, up and down the hallway.

Finally, his eyes rested on the girl standing in front of him.

"Wh-why, Miss Greengrass?" he addressed her, and Daphne could hear the faint trace of nerves in his voice, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Um," Daphne began, "Professor Slughorn, I don't er . . . want to bother you or anything. I just wanted to talk to you about when you were here the first time around, as Potions Master. If that's okay?" Daphne gestured to Michael Corner, standing just behind her. "Both of us had questions, if you don't mind?"

Daphne shrugged inconspicuously as Michael raised an eyebrow at her.

Slughorn stared at Daphne for a few seconds. "W-well, but of course! Miss Greengrass, and Mister Corner . . . Ah! I never did have an opportunity to ask, but are you any relation to Healer Nesbitt Corner, famous for being the first wizard to discover the parasitic Flesh-Eating Nematodes of Louth? Famous discovery, that was! Earned him and his ancestors a nice nest-egg--"

Michael tried to hide his rather horrified expression. "Er . . . n-no, sir. My dad specializes in magical plants up north, and my mum's a Muggle-born. She helps him with his greenhouse. She also does a little writing on the side, some books and articles about Muggle and magical music . . . well, she _did _before all of this."

Slughorn looked at Michael with a degree of some sympathy. "Oh, well, my dear boy. Are they doing all right? Oh, please, do sit down," he gestured to some comfy chairs and forgot all about his concern for Michael's family. With a flick of his wand, he Conjured a tray filled with tea and biscuits.

"Do make yourselves comfortable." Slughorn took the biggest, plushiest chair for himself, and Daphne and Michael sat on a loveseat directly perpendicular from him. "I must say, since the start of the term, I have not been able to fully enjoy students' company outside of classes. Not since . . ." his voice drifted away as he gestured toward the outer world beyond his office as an answer.

Daphne smiled, a bit awkwardly, at her teacher. "Professor, would you be able to talk to us about when you taught here at Hogwarts back in the seventies?"

Slughorn was clearly surprised at the nature of Daphne's question. "Well, I certainly don't see why I couldn't. Is there something specific you wanted to know?"

Daphne took a deep breath.

(_Now or never, Greengrass!_)

"Snape." She ignored Michael practically snapping his neck in two as he turned his head to gape at her. "I wanted to know about Snape when he was here at Hogwarts. How was he in your classes? Who were his friends . . . um, or _if_ he had any friends outside of Slytherin?"

Slughorn seemed almost as shocked as Michael was. "Why, my dear, in the whole world of knowledge or anything that we could talk about, would you want to know about _him_?"

Daphne's head moved back and forth between Slughorn and Michael. "W-well, I admit to being curious about Snape. And why he did what he did. Professor Slughorn, I'm _Head Girl_, and I have to be around him for long periods of time. So, I'm just trying to understand him, and see if there's anything at all about Snape that I could — oh, I don't know — if there's anything that I should know about him. Perhaps if you can help me, I won't feel so uncomfortable being around him and in his office for our meetings." She held her palm out towards her teacher. "You _are_ the best person on the staff to ask such a delicate question. So I thought I should come to you first."

Slughorn regarded Daphne cautiously. She looked over at Michael, pleading with her eyes to save any and all comments until later, when they could have a good, long talk about it.

"If it helps you, Miss Greengrass, then I shall certainly try my best." Professor Slughorn took a sip from his teacup and set it back down in its saucer, his drinking hand trembling the whole while. "Severus Snape took my Potions classes while he attended school here as a student. Of all the students in my House, _none_," he said, looking directly at Daphne, "could hold a candle to Severus' potion-making abilities. Not anyone in Slytherin, nor in Hufflepuff. Not even in Ravenclaw!"

"_Whoa_!" Michael exclaimed softly. Daphne grinned and elbowed him in the chest.

"You left out a House, Professor?"

"Ah, I did Miss Greengrass! There was only one other student," he said, holding up a finger for emphasis, "who came anywhere close to the level, the skill, the natural _talent_ that Severus possessed. Young Lily Evans. From Gryffindor!"

Daphne stared at him. "Harry Potter's mum?"

Slughorn nodded, slowly and sadly. "Lily Evans, the brightest Muggle-born I've ever met! Well, of course, until Miss Granger came along. You know Miss Granger, don't you?"

Daphne gave him a watery smile and nodded her head.

"Oh, they were a pair, Severus and Lily." Slughorn shook his head. "I had never seen such a rapport between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin! Actually, not until watching you with Harry Potter last year." Slughorn leaned forwards and smiled at her with a knowing familiarity, touching his nose with the tip of his finger.

"So Snape and Harry's mum did know each other?"

Slughorn took another sip of his tea. "Yes, quite well too. For their first few years, they partnered together in Potions exercises, and not because I forced them to. They had a very unusual chemistry together. Severus was a traditionalist with his Potion creations; he was particularly precise and rigid with every instruction and with each ingredient. Lily, however, provided the creative spark. She would push the boundaries of Potion-making to its outer limits!"

Slughorn sighed. "She wasn't ever afraid to try something different, to make the recipes stronger and better. And, indeed, only a couple of times did her potions suffer for it, but it was few and far between. Severus learned to overcome the occasional deficiencies he experienced from rote allegiance to dogma. He was drawn to Lily's innovative ideas!"

Daphne nodded, concentrating deeply on what Slughorn was saying. "So, did this change? Once they got older?"

"I'm not sure exactly when Lily and Severus began moving their separate ways. What I do remember was that I noticed that they had stopped working together. Lily worked more and more with Remus Lupin and James Potter and their friends, and Severus stayed with Mulciber." Slughorn shook his head. "I didn't know, at the time, what had drawn Severus to such a character, but," he waved his hand, and a regretful tone clouded his voice, "I guess once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."

Daphne nodded, feeling both sadness and confusion as Slughorn spoke. She felt Michael put his hand on her shoulder and she smiled at his touch.

"I asked Severus once, towards the end of his sixth year, about his friendship with Lily," Slughorn said, stroking his beard, his eyes drifting to some point to right of Daphne. "I asked him what happened between him and Lily, because they seemed to be so close and such good friends." Slughorn let out a small breath. "He only looked at me, and I remember there was a lot of—" he spread his hand out and shook them right in front of his eyes, "emotion, swirling about on his face. But he never answered me."

Slughorn brought his hand down and took his teacup once again. "I do know that many of his friends gave him trouble for his friendship with Lily. Called him all sorts of names. Called _her _names as well. It did stop after their fifth year though. Snape and Lily seemed to have drifted apart by then."

Daphne couldn't help narrowing her eyes at him. "Did you do anything to stop them? From calling her those names?"

Slughorn looked taken aback. "What would I have done? I would reprimand them for using such vile language, but it made no difference! They'd use it anyway."

Daphne glowered at him. "Well . . . guess it doesn't really make any difference, either then or now," she mumbled.

Slughorn sighed. "It is what many of us are destined for. To fight for whichever side we choose. Or to sit and watch and let others do the work." He gave her a look full of regret and remorse. "For some, whose memories are long and filled with the images and stories of war, to sit and do nothing can be almost as painful as fighting." And Slughorn sat thoughtfully in his chair, the flames from his fireplace dancing upon his face.

"Almost."


	28. Chapter 27: Black and White

**A/N: **Well, November's here, and I'm going on a (kind of) short hiatus to work on some original fiction in the young adult category for National Novel Writing Month. There's a link to my NaNoWriMo page (also WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot) in my profile, so if you're participating too, let me know and we can be buds. I'll be updating in November, but not as frequently.

Note: A brain hiccup led to me not remembering that Luna had been with Ginny and Neville when they got the sword of Gryffindor. Here, it's Seamus and Ginny and Neville. Luna will be doing some behind the scenes/morale stuff though. I apologize for the discrepancy.

I own nothing. Rated T for language. There's some very vulgar stuff in this first part, but chalk that up to Alecto's cruel and vituperative nature. Writing her and Amycus gives me a case of indigestion. Thanks to stella8h8chang for her beta-reading. I have three one-shots up. If you haven't checked them out yet, feel free to: _**Shelter in the Storm**_ (Draco/Astoria pre-ship), _**Monsters and Heroes**_, which is a Michael Corner one-shot outtake of this story for The Reviews Lounge Halloween Challenge, and_ **The October After**_ (Anthony/Lavender post-DH).

* * *

**Chapter 27: Black and White**

Daphne never thought there would have come a time when she would have dreaded going to Muggle Studies. However, as she sat at her desk with Blaise Zabini, she wanted nothing more than to find a way out.

Alecto Carrow paced in front of the classroom in a manner similar to her brother.

"Sexual deviancy and perversion in Muggles can be passed down through blood lines. Muggles are perverts who engage in disgusting, abhorrent behavior—"

She paused as she passed in front of the desks where the seventh-year Hufflepuffs sat together as a single group.

"These Muggle savages have sexual intercourse with each other — men with other men, women with other women, pursuing intercourse with animals and inanimate objects."

Daphne stifled a gag. Blaise kept his head down, writing furiously on his paper as if he was taking notes. Looking over, however, Daphne noticed he was reading pages of _The Quibbler_, charmed so that it looked like blank sheets of parchment or textbook pages every time Alecto Carrow passed by them.

But once the subject turned to "Muggle Perversions", Blaise grew gradually paler and more nervous.

Alecto continued, now standing squarely in front of the Hufflepuffs. "It is well-known that Hufflepuff House is _legion_ with faggots and deviants." She leaned forward and propped herself on Ernie Macmillan's desk. "Must come from all that Muggle blood infecting the little Badgers."

Ernie's face contorted in front of Alecto's disgusting leer.

Daphne thought he wouldn't risk saying anything directly to her face—

"You _lie_!"

"Do you have a problem with what I'm saying, Macmillan?" Alecto grinned and leaned even closer to Ernie; Daphne could see her breath hitting his curly blond hair. "Did you know that the Dark Lord struck down Cedric Diggory because he buggered other wizards? Cedric Diggory was a rotten little pervert who deserved his death!"

Ernie shot up out of his seat so fast that he looked like a black-and-yellow blur. Zacharias Smith and Elias Summerby, both strong thanks to their Quidditch training, were up just as fast, holding Ernie back from physically striking Alecto.

She merely paced back and forth, watching Ernie hungrily, twirling her wand between her fingers. "What is it, Macmillan? Did Diggory ever _dig – into – you_? Tell me, you little Huffle-_poofter_ . . . what was it like when Diggory screamed out your name? I bet you begged for it like Diggory begged for his life!"

Ernie stopped struggling against his friends and Zacharias and Elias lowered their arms. They made to sit back down, but Ernie remained standing.

"I'd rather be a _pervert_ any day," the Hufflepuff prefect said with a tight voice and gritted teeth, "than a sadistic _bitch _and her homicidal brother!"

Susan clamped her hand over her mouth, and Zacharias could only stare in disbelief at Ernie.

It didn't take too long for Alecto's Cruciatus Curse to find its target.

* * *

"You moron, Ernie!"

Zacharias paced up and down Ernie's cubicle in the Hospital wing. Daphne and Blaise watched as the seventh-year Hufflepuffs all stood waiting to make sure Ernie would be okay.

"You should've kept your mouth shut! Why the hell would you put yourself—"

Ernie shifted in his bed, "Be-bec-cause of Ed-Edward, Zach. You bl-bl—"

He fell into a coughing fit; Susan ran over with a glass of water and a Coughing Calmer. Ernie composed himself.

"Zach, that was pure codswallop in Muggle Studies today! I have a brother whom I haven't seen in two years who is, by their definition a _pervert_!" Ernie looked briefly over at Blaise Zabini, who regarded him with a steady expression. "And what about Justin, eh? He's a Muggle-born and gay and he's out there somewhere and we've got no idea if he's still alive."

Susan let out a sniffle and turned away. Ernie blushed as he looked at her.

"Wait," Blaise piped up. "Finch-Fletchley too? He's one of — er, he's gay?"

"He is. He and I have talked about it on several occasions."

The voice came from behind the group. Eddie Carmichael walked over to Ernie and performed a series of spells over his body. Green lines floated in the air above him.

"Looking good, Macmillan." Eddie smiled broadly at the Hufflepuff prefect.

"You _knew_ about Justin?" Susan stared at the Healer Trainee, wide-eyed. Blaise, however, watched him suspiciously.

Eddie shrugged. "I told him if he ever needed to talk to someone, I'd be available. You know, since I have a _best friend _who happens to be gay too." He gave her a very knowing look and Susan nodded with understanding. Blaise watched Eddie with an ever-reddening face.

Tamsin Applebee stepped forward. "Well, as amazing as it is to see signs like '_Remember Cedric Diggory!_' greeting us in Muggle Studies, I'd rather that all the 'Puffs that are still here at Hogwarts stick together and protect each other, and _not_ encourage the Carrows to attack us like this!" She jabbed her hand towards Ernie, who shook his head vigorously.

"Tamsin, Zach . . . as much as I appreciate your concern," Ernie peered at Smith with an unwavering gaze, "I felt strongly about speaking up against Alecto's lies. I won't stand for it."

"But you've put us in her sights!" Zacharias stormed towards his bed. "She's going to start encouraging her little minions to attack the students in our House now." He rubbed his eyes. "Where the hell is Potter in all of this mess?" He turned towards Daphne. "I know that you're thick with the Weasleys, Greengrass. Tell us, where is the fabulous Golden Trio now? Why aren't they here, fighting against this _shit_?!"

Daphne stalked towards him with daggers in her eyes. "_First_," she began, her voice low and dangerous, "you don't get to presume that I know anything about Potter or the Weasley family's thoughts about Potter. He broke Ginny Weasley's heart a few months ago. And Ron Weasley's infected with spattergroit. He's at home, right now, sick and in pain. So, _Mister_ _Presumption_, you need to back the hell off!"

Zacharias crossed his arms and bent down to talk directly to Daphne. "It still doesn't explain why Potter's not here. Why he ran away from us. He _abandoned_ us; from the looks of it, so has the 'brainiest witch of our time' too—"

"Stop," Hannah Abbott had come around. She stood next to Daphne and pushed him away. "Zach, it's important to Ernie and others in Hufflepuff to fight against all the lies that the Carrows are putting out there."

"But she's hurting Ernie!"

"And that's Ernie's choice," Hannah said again, her voice stronger and more assertive than before. "Leave the speaking up to us, if you can't. But help protect us if they try to hurt others."

Zacharias looked silently between Hannah, Ernie and Susan, conflicted and distressed.

Daphne turned to Blaise and nodded at him. "Let's leave them be," she said, pulling on the sleeve of his robes. He followed her out, Eddie close behind them.

Once they got outside of the cubicle, Blaise spun around and glared at the former Ravenclaw-turned-Healer-Trainee. "All right, Carmichael. 'Fess up!"

He looked at the Slytherin, his eyebrow raised. "What in the world do you mean?"

"All _that_ in there!" Blaise whispered harshly. "Knowing about Finch-Fletchley—"

Eddie blushed. "Well, I wasn't exactly celibate before . . ." he gestured meekly at Blaise, who stared back at him with a gaping mouth.

"A-a . . . _Hufflepuff_?!"

Hannah and Susan peeked out from behind the screens, looking at the couple, and then looking at themselves with wide eyes.

"Would you keep it down, you prat!" Eddie shushed him, gesturing at Blaise to keep his voice low.

"I can't believe it! Was he your first?" He stared at Eddie, hands on his hips, his expression stony and filled with jealousy.

Daphne snickered at him.

"I'm so glad that my anger is amusing to you!"

"I cannot believe," she gasped, "th-that you can be so bloody jealous and possessive! Come on, Blaise. It was ages ago, and, clearly," she held a hand out towards Eddie, who was shaking his head in his hands, "he's moved on."

Blaise continued to fume at both of them. However, Daphne did notice just before they left the Hospital Wing that Eddie whispered something to Blaise. His face colored deeply at whatever it was, and the Slytherin smiled brilliantly, winking at the Trainee Healer.

* * *

Another Friday.

Another meeting with Snape.

Daphne walked behind Draco Malfoy, lost in her own thoughts. It had been a little over a week since she had had the discussion about Snape's past with Slughorn. She had mentally parsed through Slughorn's revelations, while ignoring Michael's stream of worried and cautious reprimands for investigating Snape in the first place—

"Well, for one thing, he's a_ bloody murderer_!"

"I _know_, Michael!"

Michael had grabbed a hold of her hand and stared at her, fear thick in his eyes. "I don't want to see you end up on the wrong side of _any _curse that he'd be capable of casting."

Daphne had given Michael an understanding look. "I know," she had said. She had also given him a very long, very deep kiss.

Still, she had gone up to the library and had pulled out all the old Potions Honors certificates and records from 1971 to 1978. She had noticed either Snape or Lily's names listed side by side, under each year, accompanied by pictures of the entire Potions classes.

Daphne had noticed Snape's eyes always seemed to be permanently stuck on the image of Lily, who would glance over at him and smile every once in a while. She felt a slight pang in her heart, remembering everything that she had found out.

Between the information that Kreacher and Slughorn had offered, there seemed to be one incredible conclusion — the Headmaster had been in love with Lily Evans Potter.

(_So why the heck does Snape hate Harry so much?_)

(_Why did he go back to Grimmauld Place _after _he killed Dumbledore? And why was he crying?_)

(_Does any of this mean Snape isn't completely evil?_)

"Oh, for Salazar's sake!" Malfoy hollered, snapping her out of her trance. "Will you please shake the fairy dust out of your head!" He thrust his hand violently toward the door. "We're here."

Daphne narrowed her eyes. "Malfoy, the Head Girl kindly requests for you to shut the hell up, or she'll curse your lips right off of your face and attach them to your arsehole!" She flashed him a nasty grin, and turned to the office door, which was already ajar.

"Greengrass! Would you move? I can't walk through you!" Malfoy huffed, but Daphne ignored him.

She watched as Snape carefully closed a glass case that sat on a bookshelf, just to the left of the Headmaster's desk. She had not noticed the case before during their prior meetings. A glint of cool metal and rubies caught her eye and Daphne walked towards it, drawn to the object contained inside.

Tucked safely behind the transparent walls was a sleek, silver sword. It was so smooth and shiny that Daphne could see her reflection in it.

"Sir," Daphne asked, "what is this?"

She looked over at Snape whose face was as impassive as ever. Malfoy had already taken his seat, sneering at her.

"Don't worry, Greengrass, you can't afford it!"

"Mister Malfoy, please learn _some_ tact," Snape said in a monotonous tone, holding his hand up. "Miss Greengrass, this," he held his hand out, gesturing to the sword, "is the sword of Gryffindor. Apparently, it is one of the many things that Dumbledore kept in this office. There are spells on it that prevent any but a true Gryffindor from touching it." Snape rolled his eyes. "You simply walked in on me as I attempted to try to remove the eyesore."

Daphne nodded at Snape's words, but kept her eyes trained on the object. "I see, Sir."

(_Well, maybe I can—_)

(_I mean, after all, I'm on their side, fighting with all those Gryffindors, with Harry—_)

Without saying a word, Daphne got up and walked towards the glass box.

"What . . . do you think you're doing?" Snape spoke in a droning voice, making no effort to actually stop her.

Daphne halted directly in front of the shelving. She reached out a hand to open the glass case up. She took two deep breaths as she lifted the glass to reveal the sword to her without the barrier. The sword gleamed, even in the dark depths of Snape's office, and the rubies sparkled and shone like little drops of blood.

It was breathtaking, and Daphne thought the sword was calling out to her, calling for her to touch it and take it out of its invisible prison.

Daphne reached out, her hand shaking as it moved closer and closer to the sword.

She touched the hilt—

And received a very nasty shock.

"_YEOW_! F-f-fuckity _fuck_ _fuck_!" Daphne howled. She squeezed her hand between her knees and jumped up and down, trying to shake the pain out.

"Language, Miss Greengrass!" Snape flicked his wand and shut the case, enclosing the sword to keep any more errant fingers away from it.

Daphne blew on her still tingling hand, and plopped down into her seat, next to Malfoy. He leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"I _don't _want to hear it!" She gritted teeth.

"Greengrass, don't take it personally. I'm sure you simply can't touch it unless you have more than two Knuts in Gringotts!"

"Piss off, you _ferret_!"

Malfoy sat back in it his seat, trying to maintain his smug expression even as he blanched a little at her insult.

"Shall – we – _begin_?" Snape asked, emphasizing every word and watching the pair of them until they gave him their attention.

* * *

"And my final point." Snape paced in front of the two Slytherins. "Should _any _student be seen with a copy of that complete – piece – of – _tripe_, otherwise known as _The Quibbler_, you are to report them immediately to the Carrows."

Daphne gulped. "But why, sir? If _The Quibbler _is such a piece of tripe, as you claim, why even be fussed with rounding up students who're reading it?"

"Because, Miss Greengrass, there is no place at my Hogwarts for such drivel. I do not want to encourage what little brains my students have from rotting out of their thick skulls. So," he raised an eyebrow, "No – more – _ Quibbler_!"

Snape cut Daphne off before she could respond, staring at her with a piercing gaze. His face was stony and cold. "Mister Malfoy," he said coolly, "you may leave. Miss Greengrass -- _stay_."

Daphne forced herself to looked at Malfoy, who simply gave Snape a rather confused, slightly offended look as he stood up.

"See you around, Greengrass." He sneered at her as he walked out of Snape's office. He flicked his wand, slamming the door shut.

Daphne gulped. She searched the room for anything that might ease her tension. Quickly, her eyes found the portrait of Dumbledore. For a few seconds, her heart gave a leap of hope; she was certain she saw the glint of those barmy but beautiful blue eyes.

But she blinked, and when she saw the portrait of the old Headmaster again, his eyes were shut. Daphne squeezed hers close, realizing she was all alone with his murderer.

But damned if she was going to let him see her shrink in terror.

"_Green_-grass," Snape drawled. He twirled his wand in his fingertips. "I've been hearing a lot of things about you. Disturbing things."

She tried to keep her voice strong, but all she could manage was a meek, "Oh?"

Snape pushed himself away from his desk, and stood up. He walked around and stood directly in front of Daphne, his arms folded together. They seemed to disappear within the folds of his dark robes. "Amycus Carrow has been approaching me with some rather _concerning _information about your associates."

At the sound of Carrow's name, Daphne felt her fear drain out of her, replaced by pure, white-hot anger. "He's been talking to you, has he?"

Snape nodded. "Apparently, you are continuing to associate with Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Specifically, Carrow brought up your _friendships_, particularly with Miss Weasley and your obvious closeness to a Mister Michael Corner." He curled his lip up. "Your reaction to Carrow's lesson on the Cruciatus Curse and using it on Mister Longbottom. _And_ your assistance with Mister Finnigan to the Hospital Wing after he broke his hand—"

"That bastard broke it! Because he slapped Lavender and Seamus was trying to defendher. And you're letting them. You're just letting them get away with it!"

Snape narrowed his tiny, dark eyes. "And _you_ only manage to draw attention by aligning yourself with these people. Miss Greengrass, you are _not _a stupid girl."

Daphne glared at him.

"But you are naïve to think that none of your actions go un-_noticed_." Snape pulled on the sleeves of his robes, and leaned forward, his arms resting on Daphne's chair. "Everything you do, as a Slytherin, comes back to _me_. One-thousand fold." His mouth flexed in front of Daphne, so that she saw his yellowed teeth gritting as he spoke. "Carrow has asked me on more than one occasion exactly _what _I was thinking selecting you as _Head_ - _Girl_."

He pushed off the arms of her chair.

She refused to be intimidated or brought down by this man. "Oh, I know why you did. Sir."

Snape cocked his eyebrow. "Well then, Miss Know-It-All. Why don't you enlighten me?"

"You needed a spy. A Slytherin with close ties to the Weasleys, also known as 'Harry Potter's favorite family'. I was an easy choice for you, wasn't I?"

A smug grin appeared on Snape's face. "You do have this all figured out, don't you?"

Daphne said nothing, but she poured forth all her fury into staring at the Headmaster.

"You and _Potter_!" He spat out the name disgustedly. "The two of you think that the entire world should fall into line with your sense of morality! Black and white. Good and evil. You never look for nuance. For just that," he pinched his fingers closely together, "shade of grey." Snape paused, watching her. "Although you do surprise me, Miss Greengrass."

Daphne stared venomously at him, although she was now slightly suspicious at the turn of his tone.

"You have more than a skilled touch at Potions and potion-making. You are careful and precise with your ingredients. When I was your teacher in Potions, you followed my instructions and demonstrated an understanding for the minutiae. You saw the art in meticulous assembly of your ingredients. I would think that an individual with your talents would be able to piece together the smallest_ bits_," he moved his hand with each word, as if pricking the air with an invisible needle, "of information and finally see the world as it _is_."

"And what is that? _Sir_?"

"Every creature who walks, talks, eats, sleeps, and claims to have a working brain, every being who purports to have a soul possesses good," Snape held out one hand, "and evil," he unfurled the other, "within them."

She shivered at his smooth, cold tone, furrowing her brow less in confusion and more in growing apprehension.

"Someone with your unique world view should be able to perceive the subtleties of human nature." Snape walked back to his chair behind the desk. Sitting down he kept his eyes trained on Daphne. "And that is why it_ astounds _me that you seem to take no notice that your odd behavior and your associations make you stick out like a Hufflepuff in room full of wizards with functioning brains!"

Daphne turned her eyes away from him. She thought that she could hear a disapproving _tsk!_ coming from one of the portraits.

"Miss Greengrass, as much as I _hate _bursting your precious, idyllic world in which you and your friends can act as if there is no consequence, I will be the first to tell you that there is no fairy tale ending to this story. 'Good' does not necessarily defeat the bad. The white knight does not come riding to the rescue." He peered at her, as if he could see straight through her body. "The _prince_ does _not _get the _girl_."

His expression remained mild. "You might try to fight it, but," Snape tented his fingers and pressed them against his mouth, "it will kill you. Little by little. And your death need not be a physical one. It will eat away at your brain until you no longer know yourself."

Snape leaned forward on his desk. "So, Miss Greengrass, what I will tell you now is simple—"

Daphne cast him a sideways look.

"Obey those that are in charge." He shrugged. "If you obey them, you won't get hurt. Follow the rules, and _stop_ associating with those that will draw attention to you. It will only make things worse!"

Her nostrils flared, her jaw squared. Daphne pushed herself up and out of her chair and strode towards the door in long strides.

She paused momentarily, resting her hand on the doorknob, wanting to throw something back into his face.

(_Lily!_)

(_Use anything you've found out about him and Lily!_)

(_Questions. Any questions you want to ask._)

(_Throw him off!_)

But Daphne started to speak . . . and found her tongue was like lead, the inside of her mouth like cotton fibers.

She looked back over her shoulder, staring straight at Snape.

"I'll take your words to heart. Sir."

With that, Daphne departed from his office, reaching into her pocket for her D.A. Galleon as she shut the door behind her.

* * *

"Gryffindor's sword is in a glass case sitting on a bookshelf in Snape's office." Daphne hovered over the roughly drawn diagram of the Headmaster's office.

The whole D.A. stood around the large parchment that the Room had managed to Conjure. All it had taken was a simple thought—

(_I need a large parchment and sketching quill to draw with . . . _)

Fifteen minutes later, Daphne had drawn an extremely rough sketch of the room, labeling things that were a bit—

"Is that a bookshelf or a pyramid?" Anthony Goldstein pointed his foot at an oddly-shaped square/triangle/rectangle . . . _thing_.

Daphne squinted at her work. "Er, perspective's a bit off, innit? Well, it's to the left of Snape's desk. And I never noticed it before." She shrugged. "Not sure if Snape had it there during the other meetings. But it's there now, and I thought all the Gryffindors should know about it. If you lot want to do something to get it, then we'll help you."

Neville looked over at the other Gryffindors that were present. Ginny, Seamus, Lavender and Parvati all looked at each other and back at him.

"I take it I don't have to say anything about this, do I?"

Ginny shrugged. "Go ahead and ask it." She smiled. "You already know my answer."

He nodded. "Who's in?"

All the Gryffindors' hands shot up into the air.

"Well," he smirked, "that was pointless. Expected, but pointless."

"Okay, so what we need to do is come up with a plan." Daphne pulled on her bottom lip, clearly deep in thought. "We'll need a distraction for Snape, something that's not _too_ out-of-the-ordinary that will require his attention to distract him, but ordinary enough that he won't suspect anything's off—"

"A fight?" Terry Boot suggested.

Daphne nodded. "That's a possibility. If it's bad enough, we can lure him out of his office and get us up to the Hospital Wing—"

"_Hold it_!" Michael Corner glared at Daphne. "What's this 'us' business? You're not thinking about being this distraction are you?"

Daphne glared right back at him. "Michael?" Her voice simmered with barely restrained anger. "You _are not _the boss of me. You've got no idea about what I might or might not do. So _back_ – _off_!"

Michael stewed for a moment, crossing his arms. "All right. What are you thinking then?"

Daphne turned towards the other students. "Well, I need to deflection attention on my relationships with you Muggle-lovers." She smirked. "Snape indicated that Carrow's suspicious of me and my involvement with," she gestured to the Gryffindors currently in the Room. "Well, would anyone like to volunteer to get their arse whomped by the Head Girl of Hogwarts?"

Michael never stopped staring at Daphne. She narrowed her eyes at him. He did the same.

With a jolt, he shot his hand up in the air. "I'll take this assignment."

Daphne's glare melted into a smug expression. "Welcome aboard, Corner. Don't worry," she leaned toward him, grinning and twitching her nose. "I'll go easy on you!"

"Michael snorted. "Whatever _you've_ got," he pushed his face towards her, "I can take it."

They stared each other, mischievous grin for mischievous grin.

"Oh-_kay_," Ginny interrupted. "Who wants to join the two lovebirds?"

Terry smirked. "I do!" He bowed his head to his left. "So does Parvati."

"_Hey_!" Parvati smacked him on the arm and gaped at him. "Don't put words in my mouth. I never said—"

Terry shrugged and smiled at her. "What else were y' gonna do? Now that y'know where I'm gonna be, of course you'll wanna come along!"

"_Terry_! Dammit!" Parvati fumed. "I'm going to get the sword with the other Gryffindors—"

"Actually," Neville said, grimacing "Daphne's team should have Gryffindors for her to tussle with. It makes sense, because she needs to make it look like she's doing this for real. She _has_ to include Gryffindors to convince Carrow."

Parvati stared at Neville. "If you make me go," she jabbed a finger towards Terry, "then _he'll_ win!"

Terry casually draped his arm around her. "Don't fight your _feelings_, Patil!"

Parvati stared at him with a horrified expression.

Terry looked at her smugly and cocked his eyebrow. "Resistance is futile."

Ginny made a sound akin to a groan, a chuckle, and a snort. "Okay, and a Hufflepuff?"

"Count me in." Hannah Abbott stepped forward.

Neville winced. "You're sure? This one could get painful."

"Well," she responded pensively, "I was thinking that a couple of prefects should be 'on patrol'," she mimicked quotation marks with her fingers, "in order to make sure Snape leaves his office. Since . . . well," Hannah took a deep, shaky breath, "when I had to leave school last year," her eyes grew a little misty, "Susan took over prefect duties from me." Hannah placed a hand on the girl's shoulder and Susan gave her an affectionate smile. "Both she and Ernie can alert Snape about the fight."

Neville gave her a small, sad smile and nodded. "As long as you're sure."

"I am." She reddened intensely, as did the Gryffindor. "Besides," she looked at Daphne, "you're not really going to hurt us or anything. Right?"

"No, of course not, Hannah." The Slytherin girl smirked at Michael. "Although I might make an exception in some cases!"

"I'd like to see you try, _fair _Miss Greengrass."

Daphne puckered her lips, stifling a laugh at Michael's retort.

Ginny took a deep breath through her nose and plowed on. "The others that aren't a part of the fight or getting the sword from Snape's office will help once we've retrieved whatever Pansy and Crabbe have on Dumbldedore's Army."

"And Goyle."

Neville groaned. "Goyle's in on this too?"

"Apparently. Blaise," Daphne nodded towards the slumbering Slytherin who was sitting against the wall and snoring, "found out about his involvement." She turned back to Neville. "He'll take care of Goyle's research. Pansy'll be more difficult, though." Daphne rubbed her chin. "I've looked _everywhere_ for those papers, and haven't found them in her belongings."

"You think she's keeping them on herself?" Neville asked, although it came out more like a statement than a question.

"Maybe. . . but," Daphne sighed, "we don't really know for sure. So, I was thinking—" she wiggled her finger in the air, "that we should—"

"Distract her, go through her bags and robes, snag the parchments and Obliviate the assignment out of her brain?"

Daphne looked over at Ginny's bright, mockingly inquisitive face. "Something like that." She turned back to the other Slytherin in the room, the one currently sleeping soundly and deep. "So, perhaps . . . _Blaise_ will bring Pansy Parkinson to the fight, which we'll _use as a distraction—_!"Daphne shouted, trying to wake Blaise up, "so we can steal the parchments she's using to record information _about_ - _Dumbledore's_ - _Army_!"

Daphne stomped over to Blaise's loudly sleeping form, and kicked him in the foot.

"_Ouch_! Hey!" He glared at her.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I just volunteered you for a mission. Idiot!"

Blaise stretched and yawned. "Late night last night." He grinned and smacked his lips.

"Send Eddie my love next time, will you?" Daphne smirked as Blaise stared icily at her. "So, you in?"

"What exactly am I doing?"

The Slytherin girl gritted her teeth. "I'll fill you in later!"

Neville coughed. "Okay. I'm no strategist or anything, but I think that we need to draw up some plans, since we're going for a three-pronged attack. But that means," he started, looking at the drawing board Daphne had been using, "we need a clean surface to write on—"

As soon as he said it, the parchment with the diagrams of Snape's office ripped off the board, rolled itself up into a tight scroll and landed right at Neville's feet, a brand new parchment appearing in its place.

He jumped a little, startled but smiling. "I will _never _get used to that!" He flicked his wand. "_Scribo_!"

A small black line appeared. Content that he had cast the Writing Charm properly, Neville drew three lines on the board. "Three groups and three different tasks."

Above one column, he wrote "Sword". For the next two columns, he wrote "Fight", and "Parchments", respectively.

"It'll be me, Ginny and Seamus retrieving the sword then." Neville wrote their names down in the first column. "Daphne, Michael, Terry, Hannah and Parvati will fight and distract Snape. Susan and Ernie will be responsible for getting Snape out of his office." he said, adding their names to the parchment. "Once Snape is out of his office," he addressed Ginny and Seamus, "then, um . . . well, we'll use the password that Daphne gives us and get the sword."

"Neville, only true Gryffindors can retrieve it." Daphne blushed. "It wouldn't let me even touch it. I got a nasty shock instead."

"Okay, good bit of information. So, once we get the parchments from Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle," Neville took a breath, "Luna, Lavender, Susan, Padma and Anthony will work on replacing their parchments with ones that'll provide information about the older D.A. members that aren't currently at Hogwarts."

Neville turned to the assigned "Parchments" group. "Do you think you can find out if there were any Concealment Charms or other spells cast on the parchments?"

"Absolutely, Neville!" Luna piped up. "But I don't think this will stop them forever. Especially if the graffiti continues to appear all over Hogwarts."

"The point isn't to stop them permanently," Neville said, "but to buy us time. Throw them off a little, you know?" He smiled resolutely at them. "It's only to distract them so we're not caught. Not just yet at least."

"That's fine. As long as we all understand." Luna nodded and stepped back.

"Okay," Neville started again with a little nervous twitter. He appeared a little unsure and shaky as he gave orders, but the others seemed to follow him regardless and expected him to continue. "Find out what you can about the parchments, Duplicate our versions of them, and," he stopped and pulled his head back a little, as if something struck him. "The _Confundus_ _Charm_!"

The "Parchments" group perked up considerably. "You want us to Confound the Slytherins? So when they look at the parchments again, they'll get confused as to why they even have them?"

Neville nodded at Padma. "Or at least Confound or suggest to them that they've completed their assignment and that all the information is accurate and correct. Think that can be done?"

She grinned in a very dangerous manner. "Oh, _I _think that'll be a walk in the park!"

"We'll get it done." Anthony gave him a brusque nod.

Blaise strolled up and stood next to Padma, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "I can handle getting to Crabbe's and Goyle's and nicking their parchments." He shrugged. "Pansy's will be a different story all together."

Daphne smirked. "What do you think _your _duty is, dearest Blaise?"

The Slytherin wizard stared at her.

"_Who _do you think is going to bring Miss Parkinson to the fight, where she'll get _accidentally _hit with a hex and will get _inadvertently_ Obliviated? I'm going to be a bit preoccupied, what with all the arse-whupping."

Blaise looked directly at Daphne and rolled his eyes. "Fine," he muttered through gritted teeth. "I'll do what I need to do to trick her. But I'm warning you, she doesn't trust me. Thinks I'm too close to you."

"Blaise, we're Slytherins. We're ruthless, resourceful, and cunning, remember?" She folded her arms in front of her. "You'll find a way. I've got no doubts.

He growled at her.

Daphne smiled smugly at him. "There's my precious snake!"

Neville wrote out "Three Parchments", and "Pansy", "Crabbe". and "Goyle" under that, circling Pansy's name. He breathed out with finality.

"Well, okay then." He smiled at the rest of the group. "Let's get started."


	29. Chapter 28: Stealing the Sword

**A/N: **Well, most of you know that my computer had a huge major horriblebadscary crash this weekend, causing me to lose around ten-thousand of my words for NaNoWriMo. Fortunately, I had backed up almost all of Daphne and my other fanfic works too, so *yay!* But let this be a lesson to all of you: back up all of your stuff. Every night if you have too. Okay, kids? Do it for me. Do it for _you_!

A couple of eagle-eyed reviewers pointed out that _Reducto_ is the blasting spell not the shrinking spell. I'm now not sure if a Shrinking Spell exists, so I made one up. And to JJ Rust and Dr. Shanty--the following correction is for you two!

Rated T as usual. Thanks to stella8h8chang for beta-reading.

* * *

**Chapter 28: Stealing the Sword and Other Calamities**

Daphne took the last two flights of steps, making sure the perpetually moving staircase did not accidentally throw her off.

She also had to keep her eye out for Peeves, always the pesky poltergeist.

As she reached the next-to-last platform waiting for the final flight to finish its rotation, she took a quick glance at the hovering hourglass that kept time on the castle wall above the portrait of Boris Bloomfield, Hogwarts most famous Herbology professor who had discovered the _Probitus_ Plant, the active ingredient in Veritaserum.

The bottom chamber of the hourglass was now filling up, and soon it would be half past ten o'clock in the morning.

(_And then let the games begin!_)

Daphne took two deep breaths to calm down. She had to time her appearance just right by arriving on the second floor, where Parvati Patil and Hannah Abbott were both waiting for her.

First, she and Parvati would start in on each other.

(_"Stupid, Gryffindors!" "More worried about their pride than staying safe!"_)

Then, she would turn her ire onto Hannah Abbott.

(_"So like a Hufflepuff! Gotta latch onto that foolish Gryffindor bravado, right? Nothing unique there!"_)

Finally, Michael Corner and Terry Boot would try to put a stop to the whole kerfluffle, which would end up with Michael and Daphne "breaking up" very publicly and very loudly.

("_How did I even _stand _you? You're in Ravenclaw! I thought you were smarter than to defend these pieces of—_")

Daphne shut her eyes. It had been a bit harder than she thought it would be to get into character for the fight. She had gone over the insults in her head, the script that all of them had worked out. Daphne had found herself apologizing over and over while they were writing it all out.

After several more apologies to all of them, Michael had pulled her to the side and kissed her.

"Daphne, this is a mission all right?" he had whispered in her ear, softly pecking each cheek. "They're just words. They don't mean anything. We know that."

"Y-yeah . . . I, uh—" Her voice was very shaky.

"What?"

Daphne had looked back up at him. "I don't really want us to say that we're breaking up. I know it's all made up, and we're not really and that I'm being stupid a-and barmy a-and—"

She hadn't been able to get another word out, as Michael had planted his lips firmly on hers. It was only after a couple of coughs and loud, intrusive "_Hey_s_!_" and "_Oi_s_!_" that they finally broke their clinch apart.

Now, it was time to put the plan into action.

She looked back at the hourglass. She had two more minutes until she needed to be walking through the corridor, towards the two girls. Daphne brought out her D.A. Galleon and activated it to tell all the parties that she was on the second floor, just outside the doorway leading to the corridor where the tussle would begin.

Her feet touched down off the last step. Daphne shut her eyes and took two breaths and reached into the depths of her robes, feeling for the various Wheezes -- the Nosebleed Nougats, some Puking Pastilles, a couple of Bruising Bon-Bons. These candies insured that the participants in this scheme would look like they had just stepped out from a war zone.

(_Okay! Showtime._)

She spotted Hannah and Parvati several meters away, talking amongst themselves. There were just a few other students milling about, but no teachers. It was the setup they were hoping for; enough students to make sure there were some eyewitnesses to the skirmish, but no authority figures to stop it before Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones could lure Snape out of his office.

Daphne inhaled deeply again. She reached for her Galleon and sent another message—

"_Now_!"

"Oi! Patil, over here." Daphne spoke in a clear tone; her voice echoed down the corridor. As soon as Hannah faced her, Daphne adopted the most absurdly exaggerated frown that she was capable of. "Abbott, move along! This is _prefect _business."

Hannah merely crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow. "Something tells me," she said in an overly loud voice, "that Parvati might need a witness. Dealing with _you, _that is."

Daphne glanced around, seeing that they had caught the attention of a few of the students that were lingering around the hallways. "_Whatever_. Patil." She spoke sharply to the Gryffindor prefect. "I need your reports about the so-called 'Dumbledore's Army' vandalism on the fourth floor and in the Dark Arts classroom from last week."

She put her hands on her hips and aimed her most serious expression at them.

"_You_ need them? Or _Snape _needs them?" Parvati faced her dead-on. Hannah stood in a similar pose as Daphne.

"Both of us, Patil! I need a copy. Malfoy needs one. And the_ Headmaster_ does too. Show a little respect while you're at it. He's not Mister 'Thank-You-Very-Much'—"

"You're standing there, _defending_ him?" Parvati said, disgusted. "How can you do that? How in the world can you possibly want to work _with _him?"

"We thought you didn't like what was going on." Hannah jumped in now. Daphne noticed that the students in the corridor had turned their attention to the ever-increasing voices of the three girls.

"_Patil_," Daphne intoned in a deep, but loud, voice, "No matter what now, Snape and the Carrows are in charge. They're the ones who set the rules, and they're the ones we have to follow." She shook her head and walked around the two prefects. "Y'don't get it, do you . . . _either_ of you. You," she pointed at Parvati, "with your idiotic Gryffindor nobility and _you_, Abbott," she turned towards Hannah and shook her head. "You've got too much Hufflepuff in ya."

Daphne smirked, but more to cover up her wincing at the next thing she was about to say to Hannah. "Always one step behind a bloody Gryffindor!"

They had planned out and scripted everything. Hannah had even suggested to Daphne saying something like that so she could get properly riled up. "I mean, it does make sense, you know?" Hannah had told Daphne, with a shrug, even though her eyes were sad. "There had been a lot of talk in our common room after Cedric's death and the circumstances surrounding it, whether Cedric was simply following Harry to his own death and so forth. . . ." Hannah had continued talking, but all Daphne could think about was the night of the Triwizard Tournament, when she saw with her own two eyes Cedric's dead body in Harry Potter's arms.

It was a transformative moment for her; Daphne had decided right then and there shun the common wisdom and tradition of Slytherin House to support Harry and his cause. Even though it had taken her almost a whole year later to realize that she really and truly had rejected the Slytherin beliefs.

Although both girls knew and anticipated exactly what Daphne was going to say, it still disgusted Daphne to have to utter — and to utter _loudly _and publicly — such a sentiment. She tried to show Hannah just how sorry she was with her eyes, even as she continued to talk, but she wasn't sure if her apology was coming through.

"—And you and Snape and Malfoy can all take flying leaps off of the Astronomy Tower!"

Daphne narrowed her eyes at both Parvati and Hannah, and reached into her robes, her right hand reaching for her wand and her left for a handful of Wheezes. "Oh, I'll give you something to leap after! _Everbero_!"

She threw the Bludgeoning Hex at them, hitting the suit of armor behind both girls. Hannah and Parvati shrieked and ducked. "_Yeow_!" Hannah exclaimed. "What was that for?" she asked in a loud voice.

"For _pissing _me off!" Daphne trained her wand on them, positioning her other hand near her mouth as if she was going to wipe it. However, concealed in her hand was a Bruising Bon-Bon, which she popped into her mouth.

(_"In five minutes time, you might be black-and-blue, but feelin' sublime!_")

(_Thank Salazar for Skiving Snackboxes!_)

Daphne kept scowling at Parvati and Hannah. All the students that had been milling about the hallways had now turned their full attention toward the feuding witches.

Daphne gave Parvati and Hannah both a subtle nod, which both girls reciprocated, signaling that all three had taken the bruising sweets. At the exact same time, all three girls pressed their Galleons, embedded deep into their palms.

Daphne felt hers go warm mere seconds after.

She stifled a little grin as two Ravenclaw boys, both with indignant expressions, emerged from around the—

"_Corner_!" she shouted, "Leave. _Now_! This doesn't concern you—"

What's goin' on here?" Michael spoke up first. "Daphne? Parvati . . . Hannah?"

"Don't worry, lassies," Terry Boot answered, putting an arm protectively around Parvati. Daphne had to stifle a laugh as the Gryffindor prefect rearranged her outraged expression as Terry made contact with her, squeezing her tightly around the shoulders. "The cavalry's here. Greengrass," he said, glaring at her, "if you're so much as bothering Parvati—"

"_They _bloody started it! They started in on me!" Daphne shouted, while taking note they still had about two minutes until all the girls' faces turned black and blue. "You're siding with _them_?!"

"They would never do anything to anyone, Daphne," Michael said, crossing his arms. "And we saw you throw a Bludgeoning Hex!"

"They deserved it," Daphne twirled her hand around her wand and brought it to the ready position. "And, I swear Michael, I won't let a little snogging between us stop me from _hexing_ _you_!" She pursed her lips together. To her utter amazement — not to mention amusement — Michael looked like he was trying not to laugh.

Which only made matters worse for her own composure.

"You think _you _can take me on? It's one against four. _Greengrass_."

Daphne sneered at him, while trying not to break out into giggles.

"Right! Well, y'should know I've been practicing some rather creative curses—"

Daphne barely noticed Parvati, Hannah, and Terry all mouthing frantically at her, "_Now_!"

The two girls both took opportunities to throw Stunners, just past Daphne's head.

"Wha' the—!" Daphne spun around, clutching at her face. "_Ow_! Fucking hippogriff's testicles . . . that hurt!" she yelled. Gritting her teeth, she cast another Bludgeoning Hex right through the space that the two girls were standing. Both Parvati and Hannah yelled loudly enough to cover up the sound of the hex hitting a tapestry right behind them.

"Get to cover!" Terry shouted as all the girls were fighting, or rather, throwing random spells here and there. He and Michael cast a couple of Shield Charms around the area to contain the spell work so others wouldn't get hurt in the "fray". Terry managed to get a Canary Crème into his mouth, just as he surreptitiously deflected some unknown spell from Daphne. He promptly erupted into a large canary as Daphne laughed, trying to make herself sound maniacal.

Michael kept yelling out in pain as he stuffed a Nosebleed Nougat into his mouth. "Oi! Fuckin' hell!" He cupped his now bleeding nose; there was a small, but steady trickle of blood. "Lookit what you've done!"

"I do say, Corner, I think this means we should see other people!"

"Ya _think_?" He gave her a subtle wink, and Daphne hoped that the rush of blood to her head made her look flush with anger rather than affection.

Other students had gathered around and started whistling and clapping, taking sides and wagers about who would win.

"_Fight_!_ Fight_!_ Fight_!" came their raucous chants.

"OOOH! What have we here?"

Daphne looked up. "Peeves! Get out of here . . . this doesn't concern you!"

"Oh, is the wittle Slytherin Head Girly-girl fighting?" Peeves tsked. "Not good for school unity . . . no, no, no!" He picked up three helmets from the fallen suits of armor and juggled them in his hands. "Oh, who to hit . . . who to hit? Ah-hah!" And he started chucking them at both sides.

"Oi! Peeves!" Michael and Terry shot spells at him. Peeves laughed gleefully and swished around the teens, ducking spells left and right. When he ran out, he went for more, and the students were now cheering the onslaught of spell work and metal being tossed about with utter abandon.

"Hey, look," Hannah pointed off into the distance. "It's the Bloody Baron!"

"_Eep_!" With a little squeak, Peeves disappeared. Daphne could not help but be relived at Hannah's quick thinking.

The wizards and witches kept throwing several curses at each other but refrained from doing any real physical damage, although it wasn't obvious to anyone observing them. Terry had several bumps all over his face and a large number of facial bruises; he coughed up an obscene amount of feathers and made a chirping sound every time he tried to utter a spell. Michael's nosebleed was still going, and Hannah and Parvati had numerous things that looked like slimy boils and swollen body parts all over them, all thanks in part to some rather creative spell work and a random assortment of Wheezes. They were shouting and yelling in furious voices.

"Get her!"

"_Expelliarmus_!"

"Dammit! She's too good." Michael shouted. Daphne couldn't help but laugh.

"_Fight_! _Fight_! _Fight_!"

"_C'mon_!" Some boys shouted. "Take her down!"

In the middle of throwing a Furry Face Hex ("_Saeta in Visio_!") right at Terry Boot, making him resemble a rather skinny ape, Daphne heard the pounding of footsteps growing louder as they approached her. Ducking an intentionally poorly aimed curse from Hannah ("Ha! Try again, Huffle-_suck_!") the Slytherin looked up and saw Blaise Zabini panting as he approached her. She fumbled into her robes, noticing Michael and Terry doing the same. All of them pressed their Galleons, and they went hot in seconds.

(_Ernie and Susan will go get Snape and tell him about the fight . . ._)

(_And it'll allow Ginny, Neville and Seamus to retrieve the sword!_)

She took a quick glance at her Galleon. It said, "_S and E with Snape. Lion is in._"

Just as she re-pocketed it, Blaise kneeled besides her. But he wasn't alone.

"Parkinson!" Daphne shouted at Pansy. "Make yourself fucking useful and _hex _those bastards!"

She stared at Daphne in shock.

"Come on, you stupid girl!" Daphne yelled, a little too over-enthusiastically. "Don't just sit there like a bloody useless Hufflepuff! _GET_ _THEM_! This is your chance, Pansy!"

Pansy looked at Daphne and looked at the group of students that she was attacking. As if a light clicked on in her head, Pansy smiled evilly. "You filthy, Mudblood-lovers! _Everbero_!"

Daphne's heart plummeted as she saw the Bludgeoning Hex soar right towards Hannah and Parvati. The girls ducked and the hex missed them by mere inches.

Acting fast, Daphne and Blaise both turned to their left. "_Stupefy!_" And Michael Corner, thinking quickly — and simultaneously staunching his nosebleed with the other half of the nougat — aimed his own Stunner towards Parkinson, but didn't hit her. Three Stunning Spells, after all, would be a bit much for anyone to take.

Pansy looked to her front, her face frozen in a shocked "O" face, and fell backwards. Blaise caught her in his arms and Daphne scooted over her, slapping her a few times to make it appear as if she was trying to wake Pansy up.

Breathing rapidly, Daphne aimed her wand right at Pansy's head. Thinking carefully about the assignment that Amycus Carrow had given to Pansy and all the information that Pansy had gathered on Dumbledore's Army, Daphne uttered decisively, "_Obliviate_!"

Pansy shuddered and for a fleeting moment, Daphne thought she was having a seizure. However, her body settled back down and she remained unconscious. Blaise laid Pansy's body down on the floor and continued throwing poorly aimed hexes and curses at their "opponents", while he tossed Pansy's book bag at Daphne. Daphne caught it with her other hand, but kept her wand trained on the other witch's head.

"_Consilium_!"

Pansy's eyes fluttered open, and Daphne suppressed a start; it looked like the other girl was very much conscious. Steeling herself, making sure that Pansy was indeed not awake, Daphne leaned over to the girl's ear.

"Michael Corner and Parvati Patil just hit you with two very powerful Stunners, and I tried to protect you from them." Daphne whispered to Pansy. "Amycus Carrow asked you to find out any information you can about Dumbledore's Army from our fifth year," Daphne whispered in Pansy's ear. "You already gave it to him. If he asks you about it, you will insist that you gave it to him." She swallowed, quelling her jumpy nerves. "In two weeks' time, you will find a sealed document labeled 'D' and 'A' on your desk in the dormitory. That document will contain the only students that have ever been involved in any variation of Dumbledore's Army."

Daphne sucked in a breath. A few inches above her head, a feeble curse sailed over her and hit the Shield that had been cast around the fight. She looked at Pansy, and then her eyes moved towards the bag that Blaise had tossed to her.

"_Macero_!" The book bag shrunk into a small parcel no bigger than the palm of Daphne's hand. She picked it up, thrust it into her pocket and suppressed a grin.

Daphne nodded.

"All right. Revive her, Blaise!"

He nodded. "_Ennervate_!" Pansy's eyelids flew open and she bolted upright.

"Wh- . . . what—"

Pansy looked around, completely disoriented. She stared at the students in front of her, who had stopped throwing spells and were now panting and giving her the angriest of looks.

She furrowed her brow and looked around her angrily.

Daphne threw her arm around Pansy's waist and put Pansy's around her shoulders and neck. The other girl looked as if someone had just viciously insulted her . . . and promptly winced in discomfort.

"Wha' the f- . . . ?"

"We've got to get you out of here. Go see Madam Pomfrey, Pansy. Someone got you really bad with a Disorientation Hex and Stunner."

Blaise had a hold of Pansy's other side. The two of them lifted her to a more upright position.

"Oh-_ohhh . . ._" Pansy moaned. "M-my h-head hurts—"

"You fell backwards," Daphne kept her voice as even and as mollifying as possible. "We need to get it checked out by either Pomfrey or—"

"Pomfrey's little gopher, Eddie Carmichael." Blaise intoned, giving Daphne a very pointed look. She drew her lips together, like she had just sucked a lemon. She tried desperately to suppress a snort.

Pansy nodded slowly; it was clear she was very disoriented and groggy. She looked over at Daphne. "Why're you . . . h-helping . . . ?" Her voice faded and her eyes were at half-mast.

Daphne looked at her and spoke in the most sincere-sounding voice she could muster. "Because, I was wrong and you were right. I'm sorry, okay?"

The other girl just shook her head. "I-I don't underst-stand . . ."

"Don't talk anymore," Blaise interrupted. "Let's get going." Daphne nodded, but took the opportunity to look just behind her; on the stone floor, rolling around, were the rather bruised and bashed forms of Michael, Terry, Parvati and Hannah, all clutching their stomachs, faces and other body parts and groaning in "pain". Daphne snickered at them, but shot a knowing smirk at Michael, who winced and winked at her at the same time.

(_Prat!_)

It was at that point that she had realized she had not looked at her Galleon since Blaise and Pansy had joined them. Daphne suddenly got an odd feeling in her guts, that something might have gone horribly awry. After all, they would've sent them all a message immediately, saying they got the sword out of the office. But if they had been caught by Snape, they would not be able to get to their Galleons, and they would not be able to tell them--

And just as the teenagers turned around, Daphne and Blaise found themselves staring right into the faces of Professors McGonagall and Sprout. Snape was nowhere to be seen.

Daphne couldn't stop the surprised gasp that escaped from her.

"But S-Sna- . . ." She caught herself before she could finish the headmaster's name. She blinked rapidly. "Er, I mean . . . professors? Um, hello!" She tried to smile brightly, but she sensed it looked more like an awkward rictus.

"_What_," McGonagall strode forward into the middle of the now-over battle, "is the _meaning _of this, Miss Greengrass?" The Scottish witch stared furiously at Daphne, her teeth bared, her nostrils flaring. "How could you place yourself _and _these students," she swept her hands around the corridor, "in such _danger_?"

Sprout walked briskly towards Daphne; she pressed her face close to hers and spoke in a low tone. "I do not need to remind _you_, Miss Greengrass, that we as teachers are required not only by the Headmaster's decree, but by the Board of Governors themselves, that all decisions regarding disciplinary proceedings against the students shall go through either the Headmaster himself or," Sprout steeled herself, "the Carrows."

There was a pained tone in Sprout's voice and a sad and fearful look in her eyes that made Daphne's stomach fall to her feet.

"Er, r-right," Daphne stammered. She looked around nervously at all the other students who had staged this fight as a distraction so the Gryffindors could steal the sword of Gryffindor from Snape's office.

(_Oh Merlin!_)

(_Had__ they been caught?_)

"Are you going to send us to s-see Snape?"

McGonagall lifted her head up. "We will try to avoid him if at all possible. But he is attending to three other students who attempted to break into his office, not but a few minutes ago."

Daphne squeezed her eyes shut, trying to suppress a wince.

(_Godric! What have we done?_)

The old Scottish witch approached Pansy Parkinson, whose head was now drooping downwards. She tried to get a better look at her face. "What happened with Miss Parkinson?"

"A, er . . . Disorientation Hex. I think."

McGonagall placed two fingers under Pansy's chin and tried to lift her head up. "Must have been quite a powerful one. She's still very Disoriented." McGonagall looked at Daphne with a firm expression. "Escort Miss Parkinson to the Hospital Wing." She then snapped her neck around towards Michael, Terry, Hannah and Parvati.

"Can the four of you walk by yourselves?"

They all nodded, clearly shocked by the news that Ginny, Neville and Seamus had all been caught.

With a chorus of heavy, rueful sighs and nervous mutterings between them, the injured and the "injured" started the trek upstairs, flanked on either side by McGonagall and Sprout.

And wondering just what the hell had happened.

* * *

"Ow!" Seamus Finnigan rubbed his legs. "When the _hell_ are they gonna get into position? It's been ages, already—"

"It's only been fifteen minutes Seamus," Ginny said in an exasperated tone. "Just be a little more patient."

"Try tellin' that to m' legs!"

Seamus, Ginny, and Neville were all crouched underneath Blaise Zabini's Invisibility Cloak. Ginny observed that it wasn't as effective a cloak as Harry's, but it was definitely of a high quality; even if a few of the folds caught the light and became momentarily visible as gleaming fabric, the cloak would quickly smooth itself out and become once again invisible.

Blaise had warned them, however, that it was permeable to anti-concealment spells. Thus, it would do them no good to have it on while inside Snape's—

(_No! It's not _his _office. Never has been, never was!_)

—Dumbledore's office, since it was very likely that Snape might have such spells protecting the room.

Ginny let out a breath. They were waiting on the signal from their Galleons to start their phase of the plan. The Gryffindors were currently smushed against a large torch pedestal that provided them a decent vantage point, hidden safely away from curious eyes. It mattered not whether they were under an Invisibility Cloak; all three had agreed that they needed to take any and all precautions to make sure they weren't caught.

Ernie and Susan had started their part of the mission on the second floor, patrolling it so any students in the area would see them; it had to be believable that the two prefects saw the fight building up enough to get Snape out of his office and intervene.

"Okay," Neville turned around, "Ernie and Susan are over on the other side of the corridor. The fight's started. We're just waiting for Blaise to show up with Pansy—"

"_If _he shows up with Pansy!"

Ginny swatted Seamus in the guts. "Stop it! Blaise has gone to a lot of trouble and effort to help us. Remember, Seamus," she wriggled her finger at him, "he took Veritaserum."

He waved his hand dismissively towards her.

"Shush!" Neville swatted the air in front of both of them. "Feel your Galleons, you two. It's time!"

Ginny and Seamus scrambled through their pockets and pulled out their coins. Indeed, they had gone hot and writing appeared around the edge of the Galleon—

"_Fight on! B.Z. with P.P. in three!_"

Neville looked back up and nodded when he saw Ernie and Susan bolt for the Headmaster's office.

They heard Susan utter the password, "_Eileen Prince_!"

Slowly, the statute of the gargoyle twisted away and a set of spiraling stairs wound up, curving and wrapping around a long stone column. Ginny felt her heart beating fiercely against her ribcage. This would be the first time she had stepped into Snape's den since he had taken over headmaster duties. She had only ever seen Dumbledore's office one other time — at the end of her first year. She had sat in there with her Mum and Dad and listened to the old Headmaster give an account of what had happened with Tom Riddle's diary, how it had possessed her, and how she had been forced to open the Chamber of Secrets.

She shut her eyes and calmed down her breathing.

"You okay, Ginny?"

She started at Neville's voice. "Y-yeah. F-fine, Nev. Ready?"

Neville nodded. "We're just waiting for Ernie and Susan to emerge with Snape—"

Right on cue, the greasy-haired Death Eater flew down the steps, Ernie and Susan right on his heels. They looked rather pale, but they kept their composure and their cool. Snape strode forward in long steps, his cloak billowing in the air behind his body and arms, giving him the appearance of wings.

"H-Headmaster, we tried to intervene," Ernie spoke up behind him, "b-but there was a shield around them—"

"It's four against three. And the fight was only getting worse . . . er, _sir_!" Susan added.

Snape's hand snapped into the air. "Enough! I'll judge for myself — last thing _I _need are two sniveling teenagers giving me a report that's fifty-percent accurate . . ."

The three Gryffindors held in snickers as they spied Ernie and Susan rolling their eyes at each other, sneering at Snape's bitter tone. They waited as the party turned the corner further down the corridor, before Neville threw the cloak off. Quickly stuffing it behind the torch, they tiptoed across the hall, sweeping their eyes left to right to make sure they were alone.

"Well, look at that!" Seamus couldn't hold back a smile. "Snape forgot to shut the staircase up."

Neville sucked in a breath. "No time like the present, then." He took hold of the railing and stepped onto the stairwell. Ginny and Seamus followed him.

They walked up the stairs at a steady, medium pace. Neville reached the door to Snape's office, and turned around to look at the others, his eyes wide with surprise.

"It's open! He left the bloody door open—" Without waiting for another word from the other two, Neville pushed on it. The door gave way easily, and he entered the office.

As they stepped over the threshold, Ginny viewed the space carefully. She took in the appearance of the office with slowly increasing shock. She felt her body squirm and shake. Everything seemed so _normal_, so ordinary. And suddenly Ginny realized why the discovery had shocked her so viscerally.

Nothing had changed.

There was not a single thing that had been altered from the first time she had been in this office after the hellish ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets. The memories came flooding back to her: her parents sitting right in front of the Headmaster's desk, listening to Dumbledore tell them in that sweet, gentle voice of his about what had happened with her, assuring them he would do anything in his power to help them help Ginny.

And Ginny had sat right there too, trembling and crying. She remembered being so scared, shaken and traumatized. All because of Riddle—

She whipped her head around, cutting off her own train of thought. There wasn't a detail out of place, save for the absence of several spindly-legged tables that had held several bizarre objects that were always making some strange whirring noise or releasing puffs of smoke or interesting odors.

But she did notice with a heavy heart, a gold perch standing empty next to some tall, black cabinets. Ginny realized this must have been for Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, who had rescued her, Harry and Ron from the Chamber ages ago.

Blinking a few times, Ginny forced herself to return back to the present. She turned back to the other two wizards. "Um . . . this is. . . . It's—"

"_Dumbledore_?"

Ginny and Seamus both pivoted and watched as Neville walked slowly towards the portrait of the old headmaster, still deep in sleep. Daphne had warned them that it may be a jarring experience, seeing Dumbledore contained within a picture frame. It seemed to make the fact that he was gone that much more real.

"It's so odd to see him like this," she whispered breathlessly. Neville could only nod in agreement.

"Look, I . . . uh," Seamus stumbled over his words, "Don' really wanna break this up, but we've gotta get moving, right? We don't have much time—"

"Y-yeah . . . you're right." Neville allowed one final glance at the portrait and turned around to head back towards the sword. Ginny followed behind him, though she managed one more glimpse of the old headmaster. Briefly — all too briefly — she would've sworn on her mum's treacle tart that she saw the glimmer of Dumbledore's eyes, and a quick smile appear on his face.

Neville reached the glass case, positioned on the shelf right where Daphne had described. He reached out to touch the glass cover, but stopped just before his fingers made contact. Seamus made his way towards the still-open door, his Extendable Ear already out and in use.

"Shit! Ginny," Neville snapped a couple of times as if trying to remember something, "what's the spell that can reveal whether there's any magic around an object?"

"Oh . . . the Revealing Spell. '_Specialis Revelio_'," she offered.

Neville nodded. "Well . . . pray this works then." Both Seamus and Ginny looked at him, smiled and nodded for him to start.

"_Specialis Revelio_!"

Nothing happened. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Neville tried it on other objects in the immediate vicinity; they simply wanted to make sure there were no magical booby-traps nearby that might be activated once the sword was taken out of the case.

"All right, then." Neville grinned. "Coast clear." He gestured to both Ginny and Seamus. "Either one of you want to do the honors?"

Seamus shook his head vigorously. "Nope! Remember I wasn't all '_rah-rah_ Harry' during our fifth year." He winced and he shook his head, "It should be one of yeh. I don' think I'm that great of a Gryffindor."

"Shay, don't be barmy—"

"Well, go on!" Seamus interrupted Ginny and gestured frantically at them. "One of yeh grab it and let's get out of here."

Ginny nodded and turned to Neville. "Do it!"

"Me?" Neville stared at her. "If anyone here deserves to take it, it should be you, Ginny!"

She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled. "We can spend the entire time discussing who's the better Gryffindor, but we need to do something or we're gonna end up Snape-fodder."

Neville looked at Ginny doubtfully.

"I don't think there's another person in this school right now, at this moment, that I look up to more than you, Nev." She walked over and put a hand on his arm. "The things you've accomplished, the life you've lived. I am so glad I got to be your date to the Yule Ball all those years ago."

"Er, why?"

"Because I realized that was who you were, Neville. You were really nervous when we started dancing, but you kept dancing and you got so much better by the end of the night. And that's _you_! Neville Longbottom — no matter what comes your way, you'll always keep dancing."

Neville's face softened, and his eyes sparkled at Ginny's words.

"Never knew you felt that way about me."

"Yeah, well, I'm trying to be more honest with people that are special to me, y'know?" Ginny thrust her hand at the sword. "Now, if you want to hear more nuggets about how wickedly great and spectacular you are, take the bloody sword so we can get out of here and I'll sing out your praises from the mountaintops!"

He started, and, almost as suddenly, his face became firm and determined. "Right!"

Neville turned back around and faced the sword. Licking his lips, he raised his hands in the air. "Okay . . . I'm going in."

He touched the door of the case . . . but it didn't move. He tried again and again.

The glass cover didn't budge.

"Dammit!" Neville exclaimed. He pulled out his wand. "_Alohomora_!"

Nothing happened.

"Neville, we need to do something and fast." Ginny looked down at her hot Galleon. "They just knocked Pansy out."

Neville shook his head and looked around frantically.

Suddenly a whispery voice floated over the three students. "_Smash it._"

Neville looked around the room for the source of the airy voice. "Ginny? Seamus? Was that—?"

"Not us. It sounded like a man's voice," Ginny said, shaking her head with a worried expression. "'Smash it'?"

Neville shook his head, but a flash passed over his face as if realization had just hit. He looked over at Dumbledore's portrait, and even though the Headmaster was snoring away, there was something odd about the portrait. The snoring sounded a little forced, and looking closer, the old wizard's robes seemed to have shifted.

A grin slowly appeared on Neville's face and he turned to Ginny, speaking clearly and with authority. "Your Reductor Curse, Ginny. Use it!"

Without hesitation, Ginny pointed to the glass. "_Reducto_!"

The front of the case shattered instantly, and the sword fell to the floor. Neville picked it up and held it in front of him, smiling at the other two. The sword of Gryffindor sparkled and gleamed in the candlelit office. Ginny looked over Neville's shoulder and the rubies embedded in the sword's hilt caught her eye with their scarlet light.

Seamus pumped his fist into the air and Ginny patted him on the back.

"Brilliant!" Neville flashed to his companions a lopsided grin. "Okay," he nodded, "let's get away with this and have Dobby help us with hiding it."

Thrusting the sword underneath his shirt and school jumper, Neville followed Ginny towards the door that Seamus held wide open. However, as soon as Neville's feet crossed over the rug with the sword, the room suddenly filled with a smoky, powdery fog that enveloped all three teenagers.

Neville, Ginny and Seamus all started hacking away violently, and, just behind them, Ginny heard the door to the office slam shut. She brought her hand up to cover her face and nose, and she watched as her vision started to grow blurry. She strained to look for Neville and Seamus, her hand tightening around her face as the powder found ways to sneak into anything less than airtight spaces. She brought another hand up, caked though it was with the insidious powder that was making it impossible for Ginny to focus.

"_N-Nev_!" Ginny croaked into her palms. "Sh-_Sh-Shay . . ._"

She heard their hacking coughs behind her. Ginny managed to turn around. Seamus was staggering in dizzy circles, his jumper over half of his face. She tried to lunge for the door, but as she made her sudden moves, she grew even more woozy. She watched as Seamus fell to the floor, unconscious.

Somehow — and she didn't know how — Ginny made it to the door that was now closed. She reached for the doorknob and her fingers close around it, albeit weakly.

The door remained shut, locking them in the room.

"_N-no-ooo . . _." Ginny got an odd, detached falling sensation, and she felt her body hit the floor, but it was as if some part of her had floated away, separated from her physical self. She realized that as she hit the floor, the door had opened . . .

The fog immediately evaporated.

And just before she slipped into unconsciousness, Ginny saw a tall, dark form that seemed to resemble Snape.


	30. Chapter 29: Clean Slates

**A/N: **Thanks to respitechristopher for coming up with the Quidditch/baseball/sex metaphor that figures prominently in this chapter. Thanks to stella8h8chang for the beta-read.

The Dual-Dialogue Charm is a spell of my own creation, mentioned in _**Daphne Greengrass and the 6th Year From Hell**_**. **

This chapter takes the T out for a bit of a joyride. Rather enthusiastic teenage snogging, slang and, hopefully, a funny reinterpretation of Quidditch. Happy Thanksgiving!

* * *

**Chapter 29: Clean Slates and Playing Quidditch**

"The Forbidden Forest?" Daphne asked for the fifth time.

"Yes, yes," Ginny responded in an exasperated tone. "The Forbidden Forest."

"That's a little weak, innit? I mean, for a detention and all—"

Ginny looked at her, annoyed. "There are still some very nasty, evil things in there!"

Daphne pursed her lips together, sulkily. She couldn't help but think that, for Voldemort's own right-hand man, Snape had chosen a rather normal punishment for the three students who had broken into his office. Ginny, however, seemed thoroughly convinced that Snape was nothing but evil.

"Look, he could've handed you over to the Carrows, right? But he didn't. He gave all of you punishments that you might have gotten had Dumbledore still been running the school."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Are you thinking that this somehow makes up for the fact that Snape is a cold-blooded killer? Because no matter how you cut it, he _did_ kill Dumbledore!"

Daphne gave Ginny a very flat look and kicked at a stone set firmly in the ground.

She and Ginny had met up the following day out behind the Owlery, traveling separately out of the castle of course. The coast had been clear for the most part, with Daphne leaving directly from the Hospital Wing from "checking up" on Pansy Parkinson's well-being while managing to sneak in surreptitious glances at Michael Corner, Parvati Patil, Hannah Abbott, and Terry Boot. They were all being kept under the watchful and very observant eyes of Eddie Carmichael, Healing Intern Extraordinaire.

Daphne had left Pansy's bedside, convinced more than ever that the Slytherin girl was very confused about what happened during the course of the fight and Daphne's new and overtly friendly attitude towards her.

It was all for show, of course, as Daphne intended to keep her friends close but Pansy Parkinson slightly closer as the year wore on. However, she turned her attention back towards Ginny Weasley, a girl that she had become very close to over the summer—

A girl that Daphne did, indeed, consider an actual close friend, if not, at this current moment, her second real best friend who was of the same gender.

And she held back a little sigh as she thought about Hermione Granger, wondering whether she was all right. Wondering whether Harry and Ron were safe too.

Ginny looked at Daphne and her face softened. "Neville's blaming himself. Says he should've been more careful and more aware about the office—"

"Ginny, that's all _me_, though." Daphne spun around and flapped her arms in the air in a gesture of frustration. "I'm in that office every single _bloody week_, and even I didn't know he was going to use Knock-Out Dust as a trap."

The younger Gryffindor girl exhaled through her nose, causing her to look just a little angry. "No. You wouldn't have known though because you weren't able to move the sword." She shook her head. "Snape rigged things so when Neville crossed the edge of the rug in Dumbledore's office, we'd be dusted with powder." Ginny smiled regretfully. "There was no way for anyone to know, Daphne."

"Are Neville and Seamus all right?"

"Seamus is fine. Neville's really upset about it, though."

"Well, I might talk to him. Let him punch me if he needs to."

Ginny chuckled. "Neville wouldn't hurt a fly, much less a girl." She raised her eyebrow. "Although, I do think if given half a chance, he'd go after any one of the Carrows, Snape or the Lestranges." Ginny sucked in some air. "I'd hate to see what would happen if that was ever the case."

"So, when does the happy detention take place? And what are you three expected to do?"

The sixth year girl's shoulders sank. "I've got no idea what that bastard has in mind. The first detention is set for this Friday, and it's supposed to run weekly for the next two months. Snape also mentioned that the same detentions might be given to Michael, Terry, Parvati and Hannah, but for a shorter amount of time than we got."

Daphne's head popped up. "Y' don't think he'd let Hagrid supervise you?"

"That would be great and all, but, well . . ." Ginny winced, "I doubt Snape'd be _that_ generous."

Daphne agreed, but as if resigned to some unappealing outcome. "Hey, I've gotta head back, Ginny. Look, d'ya need anything? Anything at all?"

"No. It's okay. We got Parkinson's materials, right? All the stuff that she had been collecting about Dumbledore's Army?"

Daphne smiled. "It looks like it. Luna and Anthony are with the team right now, working on what spells if any Pansy used on them and they're creating our replacements for the documents." She shrugged. "Hopefully, this'll throw the Carrows off our scents for a while."

The Gryffindor clicked her tongue. "You know it won't last, right?"

"Yeah."

"But," Ginny piped up with an optimistic smile, "any little amount of time it can buy us is good enough for now, right?"

Daphne flashed her a sly grin. "I'll buy that."

* * *

That following Monday, in the Great Hall, the whole school was treated to a speech courtesy from Snape himself, who was, very clearly, irate about the break-in of his office.

"—That it shows an utter lack of respect for me, for the office of Headmaster, and for the privacy of _any _teacher's personal and professional space! How _dare_ you, you insufferable braggarts, you arrogant toads!" Snape turned towards the Gryffindor table, his eyes sharpening on Neville, Ginny and Seamus.

"You _Gryffindors_!"

Ginny had to bite her knuckles to contain her laughter.

"Rest assured, no one else will be coming near the sword of Godric Gryffindor. It now rests in a vault deep in the heart of Gringotts. Indeed," Snape smiled nastily at the students, "in one of the oldest, most well-guarded vaults in the entire wizarding world. Now, I will see to the disobedient riff-raff who vandalized my office. _Dumbledore's _office," he said with a sneer, "Let this be a warning for _all _students who think they can get away with petty - _little_ - _crimes_!"

Daphne sucked in a breath as Snape lifted up his arm and pulled up the sleeve on his robes. It was the first time that she, or indeed, the entire school, had seen his Dark Mark. He held his bare arm over his head, his hand clenched in a fist.

"All of you forget too easily who is in control here." He spoke in clipped tones, his voice echoing in the stunned silence. Daphne chanced a quick glimpse at Draco Malfoy; he averted his eyes and rubbed his own arm.

"I, myself, have a master whom I serve _without _reservation," the Headmaster continued. "And I know what he will do to those who don't fall in line!" He gritted his yellow teeth together and snapped his arm down. "I hope all of you remember _like-_wise."

With that, he strode back towards the staff table taking a seat in between the two Carrows who regarded the student body with cold arrogance.

The week was rather calm, with little to no reports of attacks on students. Dumbledore's Army laid low, allowing the "Parchments" group to finish creating their copy of the list of older members. Daphne spent much of the couple of days following the skirmish visiting Pansy Parkinson in the Hospital Wing.

However, anytime she would visit the still-injured Slytherin, the other girl refused to make eye contact.

"Why're you here?" Pansy's voice was sharp, with a tang of bitterness.

"I'm visiting you."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "What . . . you want to be best friends now?" Pansy turned towards Daphne. "Too late for that—"

"Is it?" Daphne kept the tone of her voice cool and centered. "Maybe not best friends, Pansy—"

"I never gave you permission to use my first name!"

"—but," Daphne plowed forward, "we can at least be friendly with each other, can't we?"

The other girl drew her brows together.

"Pansy," Daphne settled into her chair and trained her eyes directly on her, in an imitation of the piercing gaze of Hermione Granger when speaking to someone to convince them about something important, "remember, you tried to come after me at the start of the term, right?"

She nodded.

"I didn't attack you. Millicent and Blaise held you back, sure. But I made no moves against you."

Pansy kept training her eyes on Daphne's face. Daphne let herself grin just a small bit; her expression was softening.

"I didn't, and I _don't _want to make things worse." Daphne was a bit surprised at the amount of sincerity in her voice. "I don't hate you or anything. And I can't help but think if something went differently in our first year, we would actually be getting along better today." She shook her head. This wasn't what she had planned to say. But the longer she looked at Pansy, the more Daphne couldn't help but think back to that moment in the Slytherin common room last year, when she had found Pansy crying on the couch and Daphne had felt the momentary pang of something_._

Sympathy? Compassion? Daphne wasn't sure, but it felt like something had broken through to both girls that moment and she and Pansy had connected, forgetting about the politics of Slytherin House, putting aside their hatred for each other.

And then, of course, this year had happened. Daphne had got Head Girl. Pansy had got pissed. And they had avoided each other since.

Daphne shut her eyes and held out her hand to Pansy. "I'm offering a truce to you. I won't attack you. I'll not associate with those Dumbledore and Potter-loving, Gryffindor-cheerleading idiot bastards anymore. The boy that cursed you? Michael Corner?" Daphne hoped that she couldn't see her blushing. "I've cut him completely off! No more . . . _whatever_ we were!"

Pansy looked at her, bitterly smirking. "Yeah, I'll bet you did. You love spreading your legs too much—" However, there was no real bite to her voice.

"I'm trying to make things right, and all you can do is bring up this shit about me from my past?" Daphne shook her head. "Why? Why do you do this? Why do you want to cling to those old ways of thinking?"

"I-it's . . . it's just—" She snorted and rolled her eyes. "It's what we _do_, Greengrass. It's what I know and what I think." Her brow fell. "About you."

Daphne held up three fingers. "Three. I've only ever been with three wizards in my life. It might be a lot for a seventeen-year-old, sure, but, and I know this for a fact, that it's only _two _more wizards than you've ever been with."

She gave Daphne a stricken look. Clearly, things — whatever those "things" were — were not going well with Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson.

However, Pansy shook it off and she once again regarded Daphne with a derisive expression. "Doesn't matter. You're a slag. You're all up in Potter's arse—"

It took all of Daphne's energy not to smack Pansy right on her stupid mouth, no matter how sorry she felt for her. "And I'm telling you I'm not. Not this year I'm _not_." She looked at Pansy, never blinking, never wavering in her gaze. The other Slytherin girl stared back, as if searching her face, seeing if she could decipher whether she was telling the truth.

Daphne continued to talk. "I've thought about it and I don't want to fight anymore, Pansy. With you, or with anyone else."

Daphne waited for her to respond, but she didn't.

"Look," she got up and started walking away from Pansy's area. "I'll come back later today and check on you. And I'll keep coming back to check on you. If you don't want me to, say so. Otherwise," Daphne shrugged, "you don't have to say you want me around, but I'll take your silence on the matter as you being okay with it."

To her great surprise, Pansy did not say a word. She may have looked at Daphne like she had gone momentarily insane. But she remained silent.

Choosing not to push her luck, Daphne gave her a quick nod and departed.

* * *

Daphne scurried towards the Astronomy Tower, checking over her shoulder and glancing at her Galleon. Michael Corner had sent her a message no more than ten minutes ago while she was with Blaise Zabini, copying several documents of anti-Stallsworth research.

"_D.G. __Meet me at the Astronomy Tower in fifteen minutes! M.C._"

She had threw everything into her book bag. Blaise had merely smirked at her.

"Go on and take my Invisibility Cloak."

Daphne had looked at him incredulously. "You're not going to use it tonight?"

Blaise had flashed her a very cocky grin. "I've got to let Eddie sleep every once in a while. Somebody's got a very hard time with my stamina."

"You're like six months younger than him!"

He had shrugged in an arrogant manner. "But I've got the energy of two wizards!"

Daphne had pulling out his Cloak from his bag and stuffing it into hers.

"Just be careful with it. If you damage, lose or _stain _that with whatever, I'll have your head!"

She had sneered at him, but had given him a little wave and bolted out of the common room, hoping that her trip to the Astronomy Tower would be uneventful. It was still daylight, so she wouldn't need to use the cloak, but she wanted to bring it in case she and Michael were somehow suddenly interrupted, they needed to be sure that they wouldn't be seen.

It was odd having a secret relationship. Daphne reckoned she actually saw Michael more now than when they were openly dating. In the days following the staged fight and break-in of Snape's office, Daphne and Michael would meet up twice, if not three times a day, and they'd use Daphne's Dual-Dialogue Charm to speak to each other during classes and when they were settling into bed.

And when they were alone, things seemed to be heating up between them. The intensity of snogging and petting seemed to increase more and more, although it was mostly Michael's hand and Daphne's—

(_He did warn you he really liked breasts._)

Thus, she couldn't help but wonder if there were no classes today, on account of it being a Saturday, would they have time to get into any more hanky-panky? Daphne found herself smiling, lost in a sea of reveries, when suddenly, her thoughts were very unpleasantly interrupted.

"Miss Greengrass," came a drawling voice. "A _word. _Please."

She stifled a groan and briefly wished she had put on the Cloak before leaving the dungeons. Turning around, Daphne rearranged her face so she could actually give a genuine smile.

"H-hello, Headmaster."

Snape approached her, his arms crossed in front of his chest, regarding her with a very penetrating stare. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, sir." She kept her voice light.

"Very . . . _very _good. I read your report, Miss Greengrass."

She raised her eyebrow.

"About the _fight_."

"Oh, uh . . . is there anything wrong? Sir?"

"Nothing appears to be inconsistent or out of the ordinary. I am dealing with the _er-rrr-ant _students myself. I have already passed out detentions similar to what Miss Weasley, Mister Longbottom, and Mister Finnigan have received to Miss Patil, Miss Abbott, Mister Corner and Mister Boot."

Daphne's brow creased. She was very surprised about this information, given the conversation that she and Ginny had had earlier. "Er . . . thank you. I think."

Snape sucked in a derisive breath. "Why in the name of Salazar are you thanking me?"

"N-no, no, no . . . I was just th-thanking you for telling me. About those, er . . . bad apples."

He studied her for a few moments. "I take it you have severed ties from all the _unruly_ elements here at the school?"

Daphne narrowed her eyes at him, but kept her tone mild. "As much as I can. _Sir_!"

Snape nodded. "Good." He nodded at her, in what she thought must be an approving manner. "I do believe you _are_ learning, Miss Greengrass. You seem to have grown a brain since our last conversation."

She refrained from glaring at him for his backhanded compliment.

"Please do note, Miss Greengrass, that I handled the punishments for the attempted absconding of the sword, as well as the fight you were involved in. Rest _assure_, though, that Amycus and Alecto will, from now until the end of the year, be responsible for any punishments in the future. Do I make myself clear?"

She stifled another urge to yell at him. Instead, Daphne girded herself and stared at Snape with a steely gaze. "Crystal, sir."

She watched as he spun around sharply on his heels and walked down the hall away from her. However, he stopped after a couple of paces.

"I assume that the three Gryffindors who broke into my office with the intent to steal the sword of Gryffindor must've guessed as to its whereabouts, correct? They wouldn't have had any _prior knowledge _of its location. Am I right in my understanding?"

Daphne swallowed. Even though he was asking a question, it was clear from Snape's tone that he was making a statement. And Daphne was sure that he wanted to see if he could trip her up.

(_Heh, heh . . . not today, you bastard!_)

"I can only assume. _Sir_."

Snape looked at her from head to toe and quirked one eyebrow up; otherwise, his face remained impassive. "Very good." With a quick nod, he pivoted and continued down the hall.

Finally letting herself breathe, Daphne reached into her bag and pulled out the cloak, draping it over her body.

From this point on, she was going to go incognito until she reached the Astronomy Tower.

* * *

Daphne had barely opened the door to the tower's highest — and emptiest — classroom, when suddenly something jumped on her from behind.

"_Shit-a-troll!_"

Michael Corner spun her around and she swatted him as she saw his hysterical face.

"S-soh- . . . _sorry_! Hah hah . . . _hah_!"

"That is the _least_ sorry face I've ever seen, you total _anus_!" She pursed her lips together and gave him a very sharp, disapproving look.

"Stop it. You're so wanting to smile."

"No—"

"Yes-sss . . ."

"No, I don—"

That was the end of all verbal conversation, because Michael scooped her up and kissed her. His hand cupped the back of her head to support her and to keep snogging her as long as possible.

Daphne fell into the embrace, as she always did with him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and returned his kiss as deeply and as passionately as she was capable of.

And she found she was surprisingly capable of a lot of passion.

"Whoa!" Michael broke away from her and grinned, kissing her hands. "I had no idea you could snog like that!"

She smirked at him. "You got me all riled up!"

"Oh, _did I_?"

Daphne regarded him with a teasing expression. She looked Michael Corner up and down, head to toe. Tall and slender, graced with broad shoulders but not so much meat on his bones, his shaggy, brown hair fell casually around his face, a couple of centimeters past his chin, barely grazing his shoulders. His skin was light in tone and relatively clear, with just a small smattering of freckles here and there. And he had fantastic eyes. Hazel ones. But ones that had so much energy and joy and she could lose herself for hours just looking into them as he teased her and talked to her about music and played his Muggle guitar—

And suddenly, she didn't want to look anymore.

She wanted him. She _really_ wanted him.

"Daph- . . . _mmmrphf_!"

She pounced on Michael, causing him to stumble as he caught her and snogged her back. He lowered both of them to the floor, bracing himself with his arm. Michael had already spread out his robes onto the old rug that covered the stone floor of the classroom and he had managed to Transfigure a couple of books into pillows, which helped cushion them further from the far-too-firm surface of the classroom.

Daphne pushed into him, her legs falling to either side of his body. She kissed him ferociously and enthusiastically and, as she did so, she realized that she simply could not get enough of him.

It was as if her brain had shut off and the only thing she was conscious of was Michael's body underneath hers, and their mouths and faces entangled with each others.

"Mmm . . ." both teenagers' murmured simultaneously from the back of their throats. Daphne felt Michael's kissing growing more and more intense, and she found herself going right along with it. Michael's lips left hers and he trailed several small kisses down to her neck, eliciting a small whimper from her, because, _Godric!_ She absolutely loved it when he got her right _there._

He pulled up her shirt and his hands began their slow journey up her torso. Daphne grinned; she felt herself filling with hunger and greed, because all she could think was this wizard, this boy--

(_No! He's of age now!_)

This man was here with her, underneath her body, underneath her hands.

And she was completely in control.

A smile spread across her face. She remembered their conversations, starting from over a year ago, on their first picnic together. Michael Corner had confessed that he was a virgin.

He was still pure.

She needed to fix that.

"I need to fix that." She couldn't believe she said it aloud, but she smirked as Michael gave her an odd look.

"What?"

Daphne shook her head and licked her lips slowly. She heard a shift in Michael's breathing. "Exactly _how far_, Mister Corner," she whispered, making her voice soft and husky, "have you gone with a girl?"

Michael's brow darkened. "I told you already."

"Well, tell me again."

Michael huffed and sighed very deeply. He held up a hand and counted off with each finger. "Ginny, I sort of . . . er, _snogged_. A lot. And," he cupped his hands a couple of centimeters from his chest, punctuating the gesture with a single nod.

"You played with her Quaffles?"

Michael snorted. "Yes . . . yes. I played with her Quaffles. But they were, uh, still in their cases, if you get my meaning. And Cho," he coughed a little bit, "was . . . er . . ."

"Quaffle through the center hoop?" she finished.

Michael snapped his fingers. "Quaffle through the center hoop." He squinted a little. "I'd say we grazed the edge of the left hoop too."

"Top? Or bottom?"

Michael glared at her. "This is great. Interrupting our snogging with a conversation all about my sex life . . . actually, make that _lack of—_"

"Michael, believe me. _Trust_ _me_." Daphne brought his hand up and clasped it to her chest. "You're going to want to finish this conversation."

He studied her face carefully and his hand that she had brought up to her chest now lay there, flattened on her beating heart. Daphne smiled at him in an enigmatic way, and she watched as Michael's face went from annoyance to curiosity. She knew he was going to humor this odd line of questioning.

He gulped. "T-top. I, um . . . I got to pet the kneazle. Only once, though."

"Hmm . . . did she," Daphne pulled her lips in and gave him a small, subtle wink, "_do _anything to you?"

That perked him right up.

"_No_! Er . . . I-I . . . um, mean. . . not, er, no? No. N-nothing to me. Erm, uh . . . why?"

She stifled a laugh; he was excited. Nervous, but definitely excited. She sat back, her skirt fanning out over hers and Michael's thighs, and she positioned herself directly on his—

Her eyes bulged out as she felt a rather . . .

(_Oh Salazar!_)

Unexpectedly large _thing_.

"_Wow_!" She popped off of Michael and looked down at his crotch. She faced him, a look of shock and awe covering her face. "Whoa – whoa – whoa! What's that?"

Michael looked at her, a deep, fiery blush spreading across his face, "It's my . . . y'know—"

Daphne's jaw dropped open. "Your broomstick, eh?"

He nodded.

Daphne stared at his crotch.

"Just one question."

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Are you, by any chance, half-giant?"

Michael fell backwards, his hands covering his face and he groaned. "Yes, yes. It's _big_, all right?" He puffed out his cheeks with a great breath. "Terry gave me hell for it when he caught me in the showers a couple of years ago."

Daphne gave him a very funny look. "He saw your Firebolt and proceeded to tease you about its massive size? For running around _half - cocked_?" She could not stop a snicker from escaping her lips.

Michael pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Can we not talk about my area? Or Terry? Or Terry _seeing_ my area? _Please_?"

"Well," Daphne said, sitting back on the same spot very carefully, "fine by me." She leaned over, but made sure that she remained in full contact with every part of Michael's body. And she rubbed against him, just enough so—

She watched as Michael's jaw clenched and his hands flew up, grasping her top with his fists. He exhaled in a puff, catching Daphne's bangs as she leaned over to kiss him some more.

"Y'know, Michael. I've never seen it."

He stared at her with a sort of aroused horror. "Wh-whaaa'?!"

"Well, we've never ventured so far as to—" She gestured to his lower half.

"D-Daph- . . . y'can't . . . oh Merlin!" He panted and panted some more. "I want . . . er . . ."

"What?" Daphne canted her head left and right. She cupped his cheek with her hands and forced him to look directly at her face. "Tell me. Do you want to let me see it?" She spoke in a very low voice and she smiled with barely suppressed want as Michael slowly nodded.

"Say it, Michael."

"Y'c-can . . . s-see it," he squeaked out.

Daphne grinned into Michael's neck as she kissed the right side, and then moved over to the left side. She placed both her hands on his arms, holding them down as firmly as she could.

She knew she was well-versed in the type of activity she was about to engage in with Michael, but she could feel the difference between this and her rendezvous with Blaise, back in the days when he was a little more straight than he was now, and Theodore Nott, and Wayne Hopkins. Back then, it was just fun. A little something from the young wizards to make her feel good. She got what she wanted and left, with nothing really invested in the experience.

(_Just a little "suck and run"!_)

But now, being here with Michael, a strange feeling came over her—

She needed to make this as good for him as possible. To give him a great experience, a pleasurable experience, because she knew it would make her feel so very, very . . .

"_Good_ . . ." Daphne kept a firm hold on Michael's arms, keeping them pinned to his sides. Her head moved down . . . and down . . . and _further_ down his still-clothed body. She used her head to nudge the pesky cloth barriers so she could kiss his skin. He got more and more restless with the contact.

As she reached his navel, she heard him make an odd sound, something like a moan and a choke combined. She looked up.

"Are you okay?"

"Mmm-hmm," he whimpered. Daphne grinned, pulling her mouth to the right side of her face. She lifted her right hand and started unbuckling his belt.

Michael's breath sped up.

"Easy there, Corner," she said in a soft and teasing voice, looking at his face, which was now as red as a drop of blood. "I haven't even started yet."

Daphne refrained from acting so surprised at her sudden turn as a seductress. Sure, she was the more experienced party between her and Michael, but she still had no idea where this was coming from.

All she knew was that Michael seemed to like it. As she had released his left hand, he clutched at her head.

"Daphne . . . are you—" He was panting quite hard. "Y'sure?"

"Calm down. Relax. _Trust me_." She squeezed his right arm and he let out a breath that he had been holding for a very long time. "Now, you might hear a little . . ." and she unzipped his trousers, grinning like a cat who had just eaten the canary.

Michael definitely whimpered.

"By the way." She crawled back up his body. "You made sure to lock the door and cast Privacy Charms, right?"

She had never seen a wizard scramble so quickly for their wand. After catching it as it rolled away from him — twice — Michael cast both a Locking Charm and a Sound-Muffling Charm. As he twisted and lifted his body around to make sure his spell casting was complete, Daphne gave a great tug on his trousers, pulling them down and revealing him in his Y-fronts.

"Oh shite!" Michael, reflexively, brought his hands up and covered his crotch. Daphne grabbed his hands.

"Michael? Do you want this?"

He shut his eyes very tightly. "I do . . . I-I'm just . . . _dammit_!" He once again exhaled for a long time and very deeply. He flexed his hands out and he placed them palm down on the rug, which was now covered by both of their robes. "I'm nervous is all, Daphne."

She nodded very slowly. "Take off your jumper."

Michael did so very quickly and tossed the article of clothing over to the wall. He was now clad in only his undershirt and underwear.

Daphne kept her eyes on him and brought her hands to his hips. "Do you trust me?"

Slowly, he nodded.

Daphne leaned over and gave him a kiss. She lingered on his face, continuing to kiss him even as she hooked her thumbs into the band of his trunks. Gently, her lips still on his, she watched him as she pulled his trunks down.

Michael breathed against her mouth. She kept her eyes on him and she realized he was watching her. She let her right hand fall down the length of his skinny body, allowing herself to linger on his chest, feeling her way around and loving watching him practically lose it. Biting her lip, she let her hand fall further, past his chest, past his stomach—

She let it fall straight to his crotch. And slowly, very slowly, she started moving her hand.

Michael pushed forward, his face exploding with ecstasy and terror. "Ohhh! Oh-oh-_ohmyGodric_ . . . _ohmyGodric_ . . . !" His eyes were wide and about to pop out of his skull and he clutched at her violently, anywhere that his hands could gain purchase.

But Daphne didn't want it just suddenly be over. She stopped moving before anything could get too far and let him regain his composure. Michael took several deep breaths.

"How was that?"

Michael couldn't speak, either for lack of self-control or for lack of proper brain functioning. He just held up a very shaky thumb and grinned, but equally shaky.

Daphne bit her upper lip in a very coy manner. "Okay. Now, I want you to relax your legs and spread them out on the floor."

Michael nodded very quickly and followed her command.

She sucked in a deep breath and let her eyes fall downward, finally taking in the view.

(_Holy Elephant Cock!_)

It was, to put it simply, huge.

She could not hold back an appraisal. "Wow! Heh heh . . . _w-www-wow_!"

Michael's breathing once again sped up.

She placed her hand on his crotch, slowly moving her hand in circles and very much enjoying his reaction. He was literally coming apart at the seams. "Are you still okay?"

"Mmmm," was all Michael could manage.

She moved her head a little lower. "Are you ready?"

"_MMMMM_!"

Thus, with his permission, she began. . . .

. . . And, approximately two minutes and five seconds later, it was all over.

Daphne had to put a hand over her mouth, because she was about to explode with laughter.

(_Poor bloke!_)

(_He was just so close already—_)

Her fingers still pressed against her mouth, she chanced a look over at her half-naked boyfriend. "Michael?"

His lips were partially open and his breath came out in short, steady, heavy gasps. His eyes were wide, blinking once every minute. Slowly, as if tugged by some invisible strings, his mouth pulled up into a trembling, but wholly blissful smile.

"Michael—"

"That - is - _amazing_!" Michael looked at her, but he could barely move. "That is the greatest thing in the world! _Ever invented_! Just _wow_!" Suddenly, he got a look on his face as if he remembered something, and he shot up and looked down at himself. "Uh . . . Daphne. What happened to the um . . . er, _stuff_?"

Daphne looked at him with a mild smile, pointed at her mouth and made a gulping gesture. She brushed her palms together and swept them apart as if she had just brushed off some dirt.

To top it off, she took a small bow.

Michael looked at her with a shocked expression. "You . . . y-you . . ." He swept his finger down his chest.

"It's okay, Michael. It's all right. And I even cleaned us _both_ up already."

"Y' did?" His voice was still very shaky. "How long was I down for?"

"About two minutes after you," she swirled her hand around, "whiz_-_banged."

He looked at her, and his face ran the whole gamut of emotions.

"A-are you okay? With what I just did to you?"

To answer her question, Michael grabbed a hold of her face and kissed her forcefully and passionately. He pressed his lips to her forehead and her cheek and her nose and back to her own lips.

"I really don't have any idea how to thank you for that."

Daphne smirked at him, but kept her forehead pressed against his sweaty one. "Oh, I can think of one way."


	31. Chapter 30: A Mother's Lament

**A/N: **A thousand apologies for such an unforgivable delay in updating. I'm trying to balance out a writing schedule with original fiction and fanfiction at the moment, so my updates will be coming, but they'll be less frequent than before. This chapter is dedicated to all my loyal Daphne readers. I thank all of you for the alerts, favoriting and reviewing.

And I did up the rating to an "M", based on suggestions from the readers of that previous chapter. That last chapter is about as smutty as I plan on getting. A great big thanks to stella8h8chang for beta-reading this chapter for me. She is the greatest.

* * *

**Chapter 30: A Mother's Lament**

"I don't appreciate this interruption, _Professor_!"

Ginny heard the rich rolling brogue of Gryffindor's Head of House, a much welcome interruption to the vituperative words of Alecto Carrow. The Death Eater shot McGonagall a poisonous stare, aimed like a deadly curse.

McGonagall merely ignored her. "I need Miss Weasley, please."

Ginny held her breath as she watched McGonagall's face. The old witch spoke in a straightforward, emotionless manner; nothing in her eyes or visage betrayed any emotion.

(_That has to be a good sign, right_?)

(_I'd be able to tell if any of my family had been injured._)

Ginny gathered her books and parchments and stuffed them into her book bag, not even bothering to ask Carrow for permission. Keeping her eyes planted on McGonagall, Ginny followed her out of the Muggle Studies classroom.

They walked in silence for a few paces, until Ginny could no longer stand it.

"Um, Professor—?"

"Miss Weasley." Her voice was short and clipped. "You have a visitor in my office."

"Oh?"

"Well, certainly," McGonagall snapped, "you didn't _think_ that your little escapade in the Headmaster's office would go unnoticed by your family?"

Ginny groaned.

McGonagall continued nonplussed. "Your mother might not have sent a Howler, but that doesn't mean she _doesn't_ have anything to say to you."

"N-no. She's not—"

"Oh yes, Miss Weasley." McGonagall pursed her lips together. "She's very much here." She opened the door to her office, looking at Ginny with an expression that left her shamed and contrite.

McGonagall made way for Ginny to step through the doorway. The girl just stood outside in the entryway.

(_Scared, Ginevra?_)

(_Well, let's get it over with . . ._)

Shutting her eyes and squaring her shoulders, Ginny stepped forward into the office to face the music. She heard McGonagall shut the door and waited—

"_Ginevra – Molly – WEASLEY_!"

Ginny opened her eyes and tried to smile. "Hi Mum."

It never failed; any time her mum was about to yell at her, Ginny's voice managed to squeak like a little mouse. She _hated _it.

"You had better come here, young lady!" Molly pointed at a seat on the couch in McGonagall's office. It was the same one that Ginny had sat on the day Neville had been tortured by Amycus Carrow.

Surprisingly, another person who had been in McGonagall's office that day was now sitting on the couch as well. Ginny barely noticed McGonagall setting Privacy and Sound-muffling charms around the office.

"Daphne?"

The Slytherin flashed Ginny an overly toothy, awkward grin. "H-hey."

(_Well, at least she's in a much better state than last time—_)

Molly stormed towards the girls, her face red, her nostrils flaring, her chest heaving with furious breath.

Her mum sucked in some air — and then let it rip.

"_HOW COULD THE BOTH OF YOU DO THIS? YOU KNOW PERFECTLY WELL THAT WE'RE AT WAR! SNAPE AND THE CARROWS ARE DANGEROUS! AND YOU TWO ARE PLOTTING HEROICS, DIRECTLY DISOBEYING ME AND YOUR FATHER—"_

"M-Molly," Daphne tried to cut in. "I wasn't a part of the break-in, er—"

Ginny shot her a dirty look.

(_Oh, fine then! She leaves _me _hanging._)

"I-I mean . . . Ginny and I, we were just—"

Molly cut Daphne off with a jabbing finger. "_No_! I talk now, and the two of you will _listen_ – _to_ – _me,_" Her chest heaved and Ginny quailed under her stern gaze.

Molly sat down on the couch; Ginny knew that her mum was holding back some torrent of emotion; whether it was anger, fear, or sadness, or all three, she knew not. But when her mum looked at any of the Weasley children with those shaking eyes and set mouth, it meant that they were about to get the lecture of a lifetime.

This time, however, Molly averted her eyes. McGonagall took a seat away from the family and sipped her tea quietly.

"Ginny, Daphne," the elder Weasley woman began in a quiet voice, "Do you know what I do every night before I go to bed?"

Ginny looked at her mum, surprised at the change in her tone.

"I walk over to our mantle and I hold our family's clock. I count each hand, and I go through each one eight times — Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron. And yours, Ginny." Molly inhales deeply. "I set the clock down, and then I move over to the pictures above our fireplace." She extended her arm and fanned the fingers of her hand out in front of Ginny's and Daphne's faces. "I kiss the tips of my fingers and touch each picture — including one of you, Daphne, from Bill's wedding — and I tell all of you that I'm tucking you into your beds. I say that I'm kissing your foreheads and that no one will ever harm you." She brought her arm down and looked at both girls. Ginny saw her mum tremble just a little bit. "I-it's the only way I can fall asleep at night . . . wishing all of you a good night's sleep."

Ginny realized that she couldn't look at her mum anymore. She turned her eyes to the ground.

"I know it sounds silly. You're probably wondering why I do this—"

"No," Ginny heard Daphne breathe quietly.

"But," Molly gave the girls a sad little shrug and a shake of her head, "I remember what my own mother went through during the first war. She had to bury her only two sons — my brothers."

She watched the fire; the shadows from the flames danced on her face. "Gideon and Fabian — two beautiful, fiery stars that burned out too quickly. They were brash, loud, always the center of attention when they were together. Real jokers on the outside, but fighters in their hearts."

"Like Fred and George?"

The older witch smiled at Daphne. "Exactly like Fred and George." Suddenly, her face fell. "It took five Death Eaters to bring them both down." Molly bit her lower lip. "I kept telling my mother that they wouldn't want tears when they died . . . they would want someone to keep the world laughing . . . to keep all of us laughing."

She looked at the girls with moist eyes. "I watched my mum bury two sons on the same day. And every day after that, she fell apart. 'Molly,' she would say to me, 'Were they in pain? Did they need their mum with them? I would have taken it for them. I would've held them. . . .' She would sit in their bedrooms and cry to herself until Arthur and I would get her. But each time, she'd say the same thing to us — "'I just want to tuck my babies in bed. One more time.'."

She dabbed her tears away. "My mum faded away, more and more, until the day she died." She shut her eyes, but Ginny didn't have to see them to see the pain that had engulfed her.

"I have seen every single son of mine off to w-war. And," Molly took in a breath, "every day, I feel more and more certain that I'm going to have to bury a child."

Ginny gasped and sobbed and wiped at her wet face.

"There are the both of you now. And as unlikely as it may be, as difficult as it seems, all I want to do is take you both back home with me and protect you. Keep you safe." Molly sniffled. "We need to keep just one of our children safe, Ginny. And we made a promise to you," she said, turning towards Daphne, "that we would make sure no harm came to you."

"Mum."

All heads turned towards Ginny Weasley.

"It doesn't matter, though." Ginny started out in a soft voice. "Whether we're at the Burrow, or here at school. _They _are here too. They're everywhere. And," she exhaled deeply, "when they h-harm the other students here, even the teachers sometimes," she looked over at McGonagall, who was sitting straight up with her eyes shut, "how can I sit back and let it happen? Not do anything to help?"

Molly let a small sob escape from her. "I hate this so much, darling." She smoothed down her daughter's hair. Ginny closed her eyes as she let her mum's touch soothe her, even though she was crying in earnest too. "I hate that we're at war again.

"Molly—"

Both Weasley women turned and looked at Daphne. Ginny noted that her eyes seemed to be redder than before, and her voice had a muffled quality to it. "Molly, we're trying to do everything to stay safe. But sometimes, we've gotta f-fight back. I hate it, but who else will do it? The teachers," Daphne gestured to McGonagall, who sat still with her eyes closed, her mouth set in a trembling line, "and us. We're the only ones who can."

Ginny watched as her mum pressed her palm to her mouth, shuddering a few times. With several deep breaths, Molly evened out her breathing and slowly lowered her hand. She looked at both girls and older Scottish witch.

"I'm . . . please forgive me that, er . . . this breakdown. I needed to get it off of my chest."

"Molly, dear," McGonagall spoke up. "Do not ever, _ever _apologize for speaking from the heart." She looked at Ginny and Daphne. "I think that was something all of us needed to hear. I can promise you that the teachers here are doing what we can to make sure that the students are cared for. Everything we can, so long as we make sure we won't be sent to Azkaban and leave the school open to more of these monsters."

Ginny watched as her mum nodded and smiled at McGonagall through her tears. Taking in two deep breaths through her nose, Molly spread her arms out to the girls, beckoning to them to come forward.

"Girls, I need a hug. Now."

And Ginny and Daphne looked at each other, neither witch willing to argue with her. They let Molly embrace them, as tight and as long as she wanted.

* * *

Unfortunately, the detentions that Daphne had thought Ginny and the others were going to get were much different than the one that they actually got.

Snape and the Carrows escorted the students outside towards Hagrid's hut. They stopped as the half-giant gamekeeper stormed out, his hairy face clouded with barely contained fury.

Ginny held up her hands a little bit, hoping that Hagrid would keep his emotions in check.

"_Hag_–rid," Snape sneered. "Assist Amycus and Alecto with supervising these troublemakers during their detention. I _order _you, as your Headmaster, to deliver them to my colleagues," he shot the brother and sister a cruel smile, "should they be unable to follow the simplest of instructions."

Snape turned his horrible grin towards the students. "Expect some rather _creative_ methods should you choose to disrespect them."

"Yeh venomous bast—"

"_Hagrid_!" Ginny and the Gryffindors all yelled at the same time, stopping him from going any further and getting himself into trouble. Which, of course, would then leave all of them at the mercy of the Carrows while in the Forbidden Forest.

Snape stomped up to him, his wand drawn and extended, and aimed right at Hagrid's chest. The two Carrows drew their wands and pointed them at the gamekeeper.

"The only reason you are still here, at his school, you brainless, savage _oaf_," Snape spat out in rapid manner, "is because those sympathetic to the Ministry and who are far more qualified to serve as gamekeeper are needed on the frontlines to serve our Minister's cause. Their work is far more important than some washed-up failure left over from the _old - __Hogwarts -_ _regime_."

He laughed coldly. "Remember that, when the time comes, and the Minister can spare the resources, that I will toss your worthless self and your foul beasts out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Help me, Dumbledore!'"

Ginny nearly lost it, as did Neville and the others. They stared at him with daggers in their eyes as he walked away.

"Gamekeeper!"

The whole group snapped their heads towards Amycus Carrow, who had strode up to Hagrid. "Take this garbage," he said, waving his hand, "deep into the Forest. Headmaster Snape has asked them to collect ingredients for Potions and Herbology. Apparently, many of the school's providers have been forced to close and shut down operations since the war began."

Hagrid growled at him in response.

Amycus turned to his sister and started speaking again. "Since they've been so eager to fight," he said, returning to Hagrid, "take them to see werewolves rumored to be at the farthest edge of the forest. That will teach them defense _very – very – quick_!"

Both the Carrows smiled cruelly at the entire group.

Ginny shook her head. "L-let's go," she stuttered quietly to Hagrid, trying to drag him away even as he glowered at the Death Eaters.

Once inside the Forest, the students were split into two groups, Seamus, Neville, Hannah, and Parvati in one team, Terry, Michael, and Ginny on another, and they were sent to each collect a specific set of ingredients and plants from different parts of the forest.

Ginny's team had managed to get Hagrid to supervise them. They winced in sympathy as the other team walked off further into the forest, with the two Carrows following behind them, taunting them with insults and threats of getting them all alone to curse them.

After a few moments of picking up several plants and lacewing flies that were desperately needed to shore up Potions supplies, Hagrid left to check up on the other group.

"I've got ter make sure those ruddy bastards aren't hurtin' a hair on their heads!" Hagrid whispered. "Jus' make sure yeh keep up yer work out here. Snape callin' me a savage. 'E's one ter talk, that bloodthirsty, murderous coward!"

"Hagrid, keep your voice down," Ginny pleaded. "Don't get yourself into trouble here. The students need you."

The gamekeeper nodded, his beard twitching. "Yeah. A'right . . . I hear ya. You lot all righ' here so I can go check on the others?"

The three students nodded and watched as Hagrid left to the other part of the forest where detention was taking place.

Ginny had been able to do a little more collection, but after several minutes of collecting various plants and insects and fungi, she found herself staring at a branch. For a very long time.

"Er . . . Ginny?"

"Huh?" She snapped her neck around. Michael Corner gave her an odd look.

"Oh, h-hey," Ginny said breathlessly, right as she scraped up a patch of rock moss to put in her Potions pouch. Ginny's thoughts kept traveling back to the meeting with her mum, and to the words her mum had said—

(_"I feel more and more certain that I'm going to have to bury a_ _child."_)

The words kept echoing in her head, over and over. They wouldn't let up. And she found her thoughts going to her friends. Would Dean Thomas' dad find nothing left of his son but his body? Would Hermione's parents return from Australia, only to attend their daughter's funeral? Would the Creeveys say goodbyes to both Colin and Dennis? Would Michael's family, safe and sound with the other refugees (_and apparently Terry Boot's parents!_), also bury their only son, who had sworn to fight for the cause? And, oh Godric! What about Harry?

"Um . . . you okay, Ginny?"

"Oh. Y-yeah, Michael. I'm fine—"

Michael grinned lopsidedly at her. "You don't seem fine. You seem like you're a million miles away."

She sighed. "My mum came to visit Daphne and me."

Michael winced sympathetically; he made a hissing sound through his teeth. "Yeah. I heard. Sorry."

Ginny shrugged. "Well, it started out as an in-person Howler, but . . ." she paused and collected herself, "my mum started talking about the first war and losing her brothers. She told us," she turned her eyes up to Michael, "that she feels that she is going to lose a child."

He paled, completely stunned and utterly at a loss of what to say. "Ginny, you shouldn't think—"

"Shouldn't I?" She lifted up her net to catch a lacewing fly passing by her head. "I've been doing nothing _but _thinking about my family, Michael." She held the squirming insect by its abdomen and placed it in her jar with the other lacewings that she had caught. " And my mum thinks about it every night, possibly every hour of every day. And . . . now, I'm thinking about my friends." Ginny gestured towards Michael with her hand.

"Me?"

She nodded. "You, my family, Dean, Colin, Hermione. Harry."

Michael's face fell despondently. "It's something I think about all the time, but in the reverse," he bounced his finger in the air. "My parents dying before I have a chance to see them again."

"Same here."

Ginny and Michael turned and saw Terry Boot, holding several jars and satchels filled with insects and plants. "I know they're safe with the other refugees, but what if something happens? What if someone turns in their location?" He worried his bottom lip. "My dad took me to my first football game, when I was five—"

Michael snorted and he laughed at his mate. "So _that's_ where you learned all of your colorful language."

Terry punched him in the arm; his jars tinkled as they lightly banged against each other and the bugs buzzed around angrily. "Well, there _and _from Dad. Mum always said that I inherited her looks, but I got Dad's mouth." He shrugged and smiled warmly. "He was a lifelong Newcastle fan, y'know—"

"Terry, we _all _know." Terry swatted at Michael again.

After a moment, his mirth fell away and Terry bit his lip. "I keep having these dreams . . . watching the Killing Curse hit them from far away . . . me running towards them right before a Death Eater reaches them . . ." Terry shut his eyes and ran a hand through his blond hair. "I can't stop thinking about it."

Michael stared at his friend. "Hey," he reached up and grasped Terry's shoulders firmly. "Don't. You can't know what's going to happen in the future—"

"But the future became a lot easier to predict when the war started, Mike," Terry responded sadly. Michael's eyes fell to the ground, and Ginny felt her stomach churn as if scrubbing wet laundry.

"I hate to say it," she muttered, "but I think you're right." She plucked a Velieris Blossom and swirled it between her fingers before dropping it into her satchel.

* * *

The following week, Daphne Greengrass found herself sitting in the Slytherin common room in front of the large fireplace. Somehow she was able to ignore the loud din of students surrounding her. The younger first years were engaged in games of Exploding Snap and Gobstones. Several of the older students were talking about Quidditch, with Orson Vaisey leading the chorus of laments that Hogwarts' season had been cancelled.

Daphne could barely ignore the disturbing sight of Crabbe and Goyle talking to several students in a large group about "Mudbloods", and something that she could only guess as "Death Eater philosophy". They had apparently found young sycophants who were all to willing to spread the same lies that she, in her articles as Miss "Nonnie Mouse", had argued against. If she canted her head just so, she could make out sentiments like, "Mudblood's are weak . . ." and " . . . we'll rid the whole world of them!"

She thought back as she had watched the students approach Crabbe and Goyle. Each one had bowed their heads, and with a sickening, Carrow-worthy smile, each had greeted them with "The purer the blood—"

Sure enough came the response. "The better the wizard."

Daphne pushed that unpleasantness out of her head, trying to clear her mind so she could return to her work. But as she watched the large flames dance in front of her face, she remembered the dimly lit office of Professor McGonagall.

And Molly Weasley.

(_"I feel more and more certain that I'm going to have to bury a_ _child._")

She remembered the anguish that had filled Molly's face as she had revealed her greatest fear. But she also remembered how Molly had included her in that great big "Molly Weasley hug" as if she was a part of their family—

(_Greengrass, you are!_)

(_No. They're just letting me live with them, stay with them because I'm a Slytherin. It helps more than hurts them to let me stay—_)

(_Oi! Weasley jumper, anyone? What about Arthur saying all that stuff about protecting me—_)

(_Only for as long as the war goes on._)

(_But the Weasleys wouldn't chuck me away like rubbish. They're not like that._)

Daphne shut her eyes, forcing herself to think about more pleasant things—

Like Michael Corner. Like Michael telling her he loved her so many weeks ago.

She smiled. Those weren't words she had ever heard from another person. And true, words could sometimes simply be words. But hearing it come so nervously from his own mouth, feeling him embrace her and kissing her all over her crying face, and watching him watch her . . .

Daphne had not wanted to believe it. It was much easier to think Michael's feelings weren't real, for if they didn't exist in the first place, then nothing lost, nothing gained.

But, she _felt_ it. She couldn't explain how, but it radiated from him. In every action, every look and every word.

It all spoke to one incredible, unbelievable conclusion: he truly was in love with her. She didn't need to hear him say it to her over and over again to believe it, too.

To put it simply, she just had to see him.

Daphne pulled out a piece of parchment, and she started writing. She waved her wand in two circles and she made several little swoops, drawing a treble clef in the air.

"_Differo Altero Michael Corner!_"

She cast the Dual Dialogue Charm. Hopefully, Michael was back from his detention this evening and was safe in his common room, toiling away on his own parchment or book and the writing would appear in front of him.

"_Michael. Can you see me tonight or tomorrow? Daphne._"

She looked at her note and smiled to herself. She really needed to teach this spell to the D.A. It would be handy to keep things confidential, as once the caster assigned a specific symbol to an individual, it located them and wrote out the message on whatever writing surface was in front of them at the time.

Daphne looked up as the sound of footsteps approached her table. Her heart gave an unpleasant thud when she noticed Pansy Parkinson's stormy look.

"What're you doing?" both girls asked simultaneously. Daphne caught the scowl that was about to appear on her face; she forced a mild smile.

That threw Pansy off-guard. "What's that?" She pointed at some unknown point around Daphne, and she took the opportunity to show a little humor.

"It's a smile, Pansy. I'm managing to smile at you."

She flinched at Daphne's comment. "Uh . . ." Pansy muttered, shaking her head. "I- . . . I, well . . . what are you doing?"

Daphne blinked. The tone of Pansy's voice seemed less sharp than before. So, she sucked in a breath and crumpled up the piece of paper, stuffing it into her bag; Michael still hadn't responded to her. "I was just trying to do some Potions. I had started when the common room was emptier than usual. But, well . . ." she swept her hand around. "As you can see, it's filled up a bit."

She peered cautiously at Pansy Parkinson, as the girl struggled with something. Pansy coughed quietly and chewed the inside of her cheek. "Er . . . you're good at Potions and Transfiguration, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Pretty good. Got an 'E' on the O.W.L.s for each."

"Hrm . . ." Pansy grunted and found a seat at the same table some ways down from Daphne. She plopped her book bag onto the wood with a loud _thunk_.

"Pansy, you can sit here if you want." She kicked at a chair close to her.

The glare that comment earned Daphne was enough to shut her up. She returned to her books, gingerly pulling the crumpled parchment and unfurling it quietly, looking at Pansy to make sure she couldn't see what she was doing.

"Do you know what the first step is in Animagus transformation?"

Daphne jumped; she was not expecting Pansy to ask for any help, nor was she expecting Pansy to sound so normal doing so. "Er . . . well, I-I think," she started, trying to calm her voice so she'd sound more normal, "that the witch or wizard has to start the process by first consuming the Essence of Bestiary, and you have to combine—"

"Fur for mammals, snake skin for reptiles, frog eggs for amphibians, feathers for birds, scales for fish, and . . ." Pansy's voice drifted off. "Shit! I can't remember."

"It's, um, actually two things. You can use any insect body part for insects, and spiders for, well—"

"Spiders, by chance."

Daphne gave her a lopsided smile. "Got it in one."

Pansy smiled back, but stopped herself before it could get too big.

"You're not contemplating becoming an Animagus, are you?" Daphne cocked her eyebrow at her.

"No. Of course not! Just finishing up the review for October."

"Ah." Daphne nodded, and flipped through her own book and snorted to herself. "Essence of Bestiary. Sounds as delectable as skrewt shit."

Pansy snickered. "Or sweat from a giant's ball sack."

"With a touch of Goyle's arse-cheese!"

This time Pansy guffawed, rather loudly. "Crabbe's worse. I really don't think that ape wipes!"

Daphne slammed her head on the wooden table, laughing violently. She looked up and took in a very deep breath and looked over at Pansy Parkinson, who was smiling also.

Both girls took a very long look at each other.

"Were we just—?"

"—Joking?" Pansy snorted, but this time, Daphne knew she saw some funny, humorous gleam or sparkle in the girl's eyes. "I . . . er," Pansy nodded, "yeah. We were joking."

"Well . . . that's different, innit?"

Pansy opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, the door to the common room opened and three individuals wearing the long black cloaks of the Death Eaters, strode into the common room, expressions of cold, cruel arrogance covering their faces.

Daphne barely noticed the sudden silence as every student had frozen in their spot and turned to focus solely on the newest visitors. Her breath halted in her throat; she watched as Snape and the two Carrows approached her.

"Miss Greengrass, are you busy?"

"N-no sir." Daphne set her quill down and turned her parchment over. She stood up as Snape approached her table, noticing that several Slytherins around her breathed out, relieved that they weren't being summoned by the three imposing figures. She kept her eyes focused on the Headmaster rather than looking at Amycus Carrow, who was giving her a very strange expression that was making her increasingly uncomfortable.

"_Ex_-cellent." Snape gestured to his two colleagues. "We have been discussing the latest rash of crimes and skirmishes that have taken place in this castle. We have also found out some rather _disturbing_ news."

Daphne looked at him, not daring to respond. Instinctively, she stood just as Snape and the two Carrows did, their arms crossed, their feet together, and her wand pressed against her left arm. She kept her eyes keyed on Snape's impassive face.

"There are numerous _documents_ located within Madam Pince's library collection. Presently, the existence of said documents is _problematic, _to say the least."

"Oh?"

Snape nodded. "The contents of these documents are damaging to the creation of a wizarding society in which pure-bloods are put in their rightful place."

Daphne continued to look at him, staying silent.

"Radicals and fringe-thinkers, Sanguigeneticists who live to bring down the works of our venerated and highly honored Healer Stallsworth. Apparently, Hogwarts has been _filled_ with their works and we knew nothing about it." Snape growled. "Collecting such pseudo-intellectual garbage was something Dumbledore found _necessary._" He turned towards Amycus Carrow and smiled cruelly. "However, we will be changing that _very_ _soon_."

"Might I ask," Daphne kept her voice light, "what do you plan on doing with these documents?"

It was Carrow who stepped up in front of her. "We'll _burn _them," his face twisted into a hungry leer. "Every last sheet, every final _page_! All those lies about The Healer — _poof_!" Carrow blew on his fingertips, and Daphne stopped short of gagging on his awful breath. "We'll watch the whole thing _burn_!"

"However, before we get that far," Snape drawled, "we must locate and collect _each_ – _and – every – document_, parchment, any book or publication that appear to reject the principles that we have sworn to uphold. Do you follow me, Miss Greengrass?"

Daphne struggled to maintain her composure, acting as if she knew nothing about what Snape was talking about. "Pardon, sir?"

"There is some indication that, since last year, a large number of these documents have disappeared. Students and staff are the only ones with access to Hogwarts' library. Since _we_," he said, smiling knowingly at the other Death Eaters, "have already made assurances among the staff that they do not know where the documents are, we can only conjecture _students _have them in their possession."

Snape drew himself up as he continued talking. "We shall investigate Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff for the parchments. Al-_so_, several students have been disobeying a direct order of mine, banning all issues of _The Quibbler_ since this summer."

"Sir, I know nothing about—!"

"Do – NOT – interrupt me, Greengrass! Rules are not being followed, and after today, should this behavior continue further, the Carrows will begin dispensing the old forms of punishments to the students! Now," he said, in a more calm manner, "I assume no one in Slytherin House would collect this illegal propaganda?"

"_Absolutely_ _not_, _Sir_!" Daphne heard herself shout a little emphatically.

Alecto Carrow pushed past Snape and sneered evilly. "You think we're stupid, girl?" Daphne valiantly refrained from gagging on her rancid breath.

(_Don't bloody Death Eaters practice proper oral hygiene?_)

(_I'll introduce the bint to floss, or Imperius her to go to a dentist—_)

"We know you spend your time with that Ravenclaw boy and that blood traitor Weasley bitch!"

Daphne looked at Pansy, whose face had suddenly become stony.

"P-pardon me, P-professor Carrow, but whatever I might have had with that Ravenclaw ended the second he attacked my dorm-mate, Pansy Parkinson," Daphne nodded in the other girl's direction. "A-and I can't help the fact that the Weasleys took me in so that I could have a home while I finish up school. If anything, they've been really good to me."

"They're _associates_ of Undesirable No. One—"

"D-do you think that family w-wants anything to do with that wizard," Daphne stuttered but tried to retain her composure, "after he broke their daughter's heart? I think he's a fool and an _idiot_!"

She had to spit out the last word, lest she fear it would peter out into nothingness.

Snape held his arm up between Alecto and Daphne. "We are not here to question Miss Greengrass' loyalties, which I have no qualms with. Rather, we are here to assign her and Mister Malfoy jobs."

Daphne's eyes scanned all three faces.

"Alecto, Amycus, I'm sure that the school could do with the two of you on patrol this evening."

"Does that mean we can _play_, Snape?"

To Daphne's great disgust, Snape grinned coldly in response. "It does indeed, Amycus." Snape faced Daphne once again. "Miss Greengrass and I shall handle both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor under my supervision. Mister Malfoy shall take care of Hufflepuff."

Snape waved his hand at her. "Well, go and fetch the Head Boy and bring him downstairs! We have work to do tonight."

"Yes sir!" Daphne forced herself to give Snape a bow from her waist, and ran up the stairs towards the boys' dormitory. Once she had turned the corner of the stairwell, and was out of sight of the three Death Eaters, Daphne reached into her pockets for her D.A. Galleon and her wand, and started tapping away at her second message of the evening—

"_Carrows, Snape, Malfoy raid on Gryff., Huff., Raven. In minutes! Hide everything!_"


	32. Chapter 31: The First Raid

**A/N**: I own nothing. Rated M for mature themes. Thanks to stella8h8chang for beta-reading the first half of this chapter, and for the help with the Latin. The second half has not been beta-read.

* * *

**Chapter 31: The First Raid**

Ginny kicked off her shoes and plopped her feet in front of the fireplace, blocking out the commotion of the Gryffindor common room that evening.

"I'm knackered!"

Neville and Seamus plopped down right next to her on the same couch.

"So're we."

"And all of us in You-Know-_What_ thank you for taking one for the team! Going out into the Forbidden Forest and all." Lavender ran her hands down Seamus' arms and kissed him on his forehead. Ginny snickered as Seamus hummed at her touch and reached up with his head to peck her on her lips.

"Oh, Shay," Lavender wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in front of her face, "you smell like . . . like—"

"Nature?"

"I was going to say goblin fart." She winced. "You need to shower."

Seamus grabbed her hand and winked at her. "Wanna join me?"

"Gah!" Neville swatted at him with a cushion, trying to sound annoyed but chuckling. "Keep it contained, mate!"

"Oh right, Nev . . . don' tell me yeh wouldn't say the same thing if there was a little blonde Hufflepuff sittin' righ' 'ere!"

"Okay, that's it! You're dead meat!"

Seamus jumped and hollered out of his seat as Neville chased him around the common room, both boys jumping on every couch.

"Whoo! Go Shay!" Some boys screamed out loud. Lavender laughed.

"Neville — get him, get him, _get him_!" Several of the other younger Gryffindors, led by Andrew Kirke, Demelza Robins, and Jack Sloper, started clapping and hollering, cheering Neville on.

Ginny could hardly catch her breath she was laughing so hard. She clutched at her sides, hurting and cramping so much through the riotous hysterics.

"_Nev_!" Ginny hollered after she regained her composure. She grabbed his arm as he returned back to the couch panting, holding Seamus in a headlock. "So . . . is there a special 'Puff that you've been keeping from us, then?"

Instead of answering outright. Neville merely continued panting — but he blushed furiously.

"Neville!" Ginny sat up excited. "Come on! Don't hold out on us—"

He turned towards Seamus, who was sitting and holding Lavender in his lap. "I really hate you sometimes."

Seamus blew him a kiss and gave him a wink.

He faced Ginny again, and a resigned grin filled his face. "Fine. Do you want to know—?"

"_YES!_"

Parvati found them, after having gone to the girls' room to clean up. She fell into another chair. "What are you '_yes'_-ing, Ginny?"

"_Ginny_—" Neville said warningly.

"Neville, _please . . . prettyprettypretty—_"

"For the love of," he fumed at her, "I had no idea you were so persistent."

Ginny snorted and gave him an incredulous look. "I'm a Weasley. I'm born red, loud and bloody stubborn as hell!"

He laughed and nodded. "Fair point."

"Um, either one of you," Parvati interrupted. "Do you mind letting me in on the little secret?"

Neville sighed and shot Seamus another glare. "Hannah Abbott."

Ginny squealed and jumped up out of her seat. "I – _knew_ – it! I knew it, knew it, knew it!"

"What? How did you know? I never said a word to . . . _Seamus_?!"

Ginny shook her head as Seamus shook his own. "No, no. Daphne and I noticed that you two kept looking at each other during some of our meetings, and you kept blushing and she kept blushing—"

"Nev, you like Hannah? Well, speak up! Are the feelings mutual?" Parvati leaned forward.

He looked at both girls with a bashful smile. "Dunno. I haven't really talked to her about it."

Ginny crossed her arms and grinned mischievously at him. "I'll bet it is. I mean, I can tell, the way she kind of slyly looks at you, and she's always blushing too, whenever you speak to her—"

Neville lowered his head, but he still had a smile on his face.

"When did all this start?" Ginny asked, calming down enough so she didn't sound like a choir of banshees.

"Actually, we were communicating a lot last year. Um . . . I wrote her, after I found out about her mum."

"Oh," Ginny, Parvati and Lavender all breathed out in unison. Seamus patted Neville on the back.

"Well, I thought that she might want to talk to someone who's sort of in the same position, y'know?" He looked back up at his friends, wincing and shrugging, "My parents are still alive, but they're not . . . _here_, if you catch my meaning." His eyes fell back to the fireplace, and Ginny noticed the sadness that seemed to have taken root there. "I thought if she wanted to talk to someone who's experienced a loss like that, it'd be good for her, so she never felt alone." Neville smiled again, and this time, there was a calm happiness in his face. "She responded back, and we kept owling each other." He looked at the others. "She said she liked my notes. They made her happy and all . . ." His voice faded, but there was a spark in his eyes that Ginny had never seen before.

"So, you haven't told her yet? And you two haven't done anything?"

"_Gin_!" Neville exclaimed. "N-no! We haven't done—"

"I mean, even a little peck on the cheek. Or a hug, for heaven's sake! Boys and their brains . . ." Ginny smirked.

He gulped — audibly. "Um, she gave me a kiss. _On – the – cheek_!" Neville said, loudly and quickly, when the others threatened to jump out of their seats and yell in excitement. "After, er . . . that first meeting. On that first Saturday."

Parvati whistled and grinned cheekily at him. "_Nev_-ille . . . you total dog!"

Seamus slapped his knee and was about to take the Mickey out of his dorm-mate — when it happened.

"What the—?" Ginny smacked her pocket as she felt a surge of heat in her trousers. The others all jumped up and felt theirs.

"_The Galleons_?!" Lavender whispered.

Parvati was the first to pull hers out. "_Godric_! Guys . . . Snape, and the Carrows—"

"Shit!" Neville shot up off the couches. "Everybody!" He yelled out at the common room, "Snape and the Carrows are coming to search everything!"

Ginny jumped. She loved her brother dearly, but she never heard Ron speak with so much power during his time as a prefect.

Neville had just taken a hold of the reins and started steering the horse. With real authority.

"If you have anything questionable, anything Muggle-related, anything that might get you in trouble — _anything! _— bring it down here to the common room. Use the biggest trunks you have on each floor, and get as much stuff into them as possible. Bring them down here and stack them in the middle of the room. Well . . . _go on_!"

Chaos ensued. About three-fourths of the Gryffindors booked it up the stairs, nearly blocking the entrance to the dormitories. Parvati had managed to squeeze through the crowd and had opened the doors to the girls and boys side, managing the flow of students hastily running to their rooms to bring down any paraphernalia.

Ginny ran over to Neville, who was following Seamus up to the seventh year's boys' dormitory. "Neville . . . why have them bring everything down here?"

Neville grinned at her, while sending a message on his Galleon. "Well, how else will Dobby be able to take everything to the Room of Requirement and hide it for us?" He held up the coin to Ginny. "I'm making sure the others know what we're doing."

She stared at him with admiration. "You're quite scary sometimes, Neville. Y'know that?"

Neville grinned, but turned back to his Galleon to relay the message to the others.

Ginny went to her dormitory and collected the documents from the library, all the research that provided fodder for Daphne's pamphlets and refuted Healer Stallsworth, and held them as tightly as she could in her arms. She also made sure that the pamphlets that Daphne had written were all picked up.

"Ginny!" Cosima Ramsay exclaimed. "You missed one."

"Shit! Thanks, Cosi." Cosima held the trunk open for Ginny to stuff the papers inside. "Do you need help?"

"No, but what are we going to do with everything?" Cosi and Ginny's other dorm mates, Ursula Beckham and Susanne Lasenby gestured to their trunk. "We've stuffed it, but you know they're going to go through it—"

"Remember that house-elf, Dobby? The one who came to visit me in the dorms after Carrow sliced up my arm?"

All the girls nodded.

"Well, we're going to summon him and he'll take it to a special hiding place."

"He'll be able to do that?" Susanne asked. The girls started down the stairs, taking two at a time, all nervous, not knowing when the Death Eaters were going to get there.

Ginny smiled. "He knows a helluva lot more magic than any witch or wizard does."

The other girls looked at each other with doubtful, but hopeful, expressions.

They made it down the stairs, and Ginny found herself holding in a breath, doubting Dobby could hide their things in time. There were so many trunks, all placed next to each other, and the owners of them, a group mixed of first, second, third and fourth-year boys and girls flashed Ginny looks of worry, of growing apprehension.

"Well, here we are! We've got all of our stuff—"

"How did you guys all know what was about to happen?" a fourth-year, Glenda Davis, asked Ginny. She didn't like the suspicious sound of her voice.

"Well," Ginny began cautiously, but she was interrupted.

What does the prefect have in mind?" another boy, Robbie Sutton, asked.

She held up her hand to stall their interrogatories, when a voice sounded behind her.

"All right. Parvati's doing a final check of both dormitories. We want to make sure everyone's out."

Neville looked down at the pile on the floor and drew in a breath. "Well, I guess he'll have his work cut out for him," he chuckled softly and scratched his head. He then cast a glance at Ginny. "Ten minutes."

Ginny nodded, just as Parvati came flying down the stairs. "All set."

Neville grinned at both girls and kept his eyes planted on them, Seamus and Lavender. With a smile, he shouted as loud as he dared. "_DOBBY_!"

There was a pop, and several of the students jumped in shock. There, directly in front of Neville, stood Dobby the house-elf. He was dressed in the exact same garb as he was always dressed in whenever they saw him anymore.

Tea cozy? Check.

Socks? Check.

Weasley jumper? Ginny's heart thudded in her chest, once again, as she saw the little fellow wearing her mum's hand knitted creation even though it was several times bigger than him.

(_Check_.)

"Dobby is reporting for duty!" the house-elf saluted Neville. "Anything that the brave Master Longbottom wants, Dobby shall do!"

"Whoa! Okay, Dobby," Neville said, going down on one knee in front of the house-elf. "It's all right. We've got to find a place to hide all of this—"

"Oh yes! Dobby has already assisted the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws with their belongings that they do not want the Headmaster to see! And Dobby knows exactly where he can hide everyone's belongings. Dobby has the perfect spot!"

"Go ahead then," Neville grinned wide at him and gave him a nod.

Dobby held up his hand, and snapped his fingers—

Instantly, everything that the students had brought downstairs disappeared. Shocked gasps and disbelieving breaths — not to mention a couple of screams — echoed against the stone walls.

"What the effing _hell_?!"

"What did that thing do to our shit?"

"Oh no! Is it just _gone_?"

"Oh dear . . . did Dobby do a bad thing?"

Neville shook his head as the house-elf's ears drooped. "No Dobby, you did good." The students were still hollering for answers and Parvati with the help of the other prefects were trying to keep order.

"Dobby," Ginny kneeled besides Neville. "Where did you Vanish them to?"

"Dobby made sure everyone's things are safe in the Come and Go Room—"

Neville and Ginny looked at each other, confused and scared that maybe they didn't know where the belongings were.

"Otherwise known as the Room of Requirement."

Ginny and Neville breathed out in relief. "It's okay," Neville projected to the entire room. "We know where your things are, and we'll retrieve them for you after the raid is over."

"Should Dobby go before the Headmaster gets here? Miss Daffy is with him now, but they are being slowed by Kreacher and a couple of other house-elves."

"Er . . . who's Daff- . . . _oh_!" Neville chuckled, and looked at Ginny. "Daphne." They both nodded.

"You said a couple of house-elves are with Snape and Daphne?" he asked.

"Yes! Dobby asked them to see if the Headmaster wants or needs anything, and to keep asking him how he finds his room and whether he thinks we're doing a good job keeping the castle in order!" Dobby winked at them. "Only Kreacher knows why they're delaying them. Dobby told Kreacher that it was to help his Master Harry's friends! Kreacher is obeying wonderfully!"

"Excellent!" Neville patted Dobby on the back. "Seriously Dobby, come up to my dormitory after all this is over." He winked back at the house-elf. "I've got some socks that I think you'll like that I want you to have."

The house-elf's huge eyes shined and sparkled with tears and joy. "Oh, Dobby is so lucky! The day he met the great Harry Potter, he made the best—"

Dobby stopped talking and brought his hands to the side of his head in a quick motion. Ginny felt her Galleon grow hot. She held it up to show the new message from Daphne.

"_We're here_!"

"They're here! They are starting with Gryffindor and will go to Ravenclaw next! Dobby shall warn them and the other House too!"

With one final nod, Dobby snapped his fingers and disappeared with a loud _CRACK!_

Which was none too soon, as Ginny heard the sound of a portrait giving way. All the students stood straight, stiff as boards. Neville and Parvati looked at each other and with two nods stepped out in front, both rubbing their prefect badges until they shone in the light of the common room. Seamus, Lavender, and Ginny all stood around them.

"—M-Master, please allow Kreacher to be of assistance. Kreacher can help with the search, with the raid." Kreacher emerged from the shadows of the entryway to the common room, walking backwards and talking to an as yet unidentified figure.

Snape swooped into the room, practically kicking the house-elf away. Ginny almost charged towards the Headmaster for his rudeness, but she restrained herself; after all, the house-elf was playing supplicant to the Headmaster and his Death Eater mates.

However, when she spied the Head Girl trailing behind him, Ginny's heart sank. Daphne, despite her defiant chin, was pale and obviously nervous. She looked at all the D.A. Gryffindors with her eyes wide and round, but quickly shook her head and narrowed them into slits, attempting to look somewhat dangerous and intimidating.

"Miss Weasley, I'm speaking to you! Where is your _head_, girl?"

Ginny snapped her head around to Snape. Looking at him, staring right into his beady eyes, she felt her anger rise. "Sorry, sir. Wasn't listening." Next to her, she could hear Neville and Seamus chuckle quietly.

"I asked if you have received any correspondence recently? From any family members?" The Headmaster cocked an eyebrow and waited for her to answer.

She shook her head, but never took her eyes off of him. "Only the normal letters from my mum."

"And how is your _brother_, Miss Weasley?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Which one? We have so many, _sir_. As you like to point out, us Weasleys seem to multiply like rabbits."

Snape's nostrils flared. "The _sick_ one!" he spat back.

"Still sick. Sir."

"Is he?" Snape's lip curled. She steeled her eyes at him. Finally, he nodded. "If you say so. I should be grateful he isn't here, wreaking havoc upon the student body." He spun around before Ginny could snap back at him. His eyes glanced over the others and he curled his lip, regarding them with disgust.

Snapping his fingers, Snape beckoned Daphne to stand by him. "Kreacher, return to the kitchens." He glowered at the old house-elf. Kreacher bowed, retreated backwards, and Disapparated with a pop.

"Miss Greengrass," Snape drawled, never taking his eyes off of Ginny or Neville, "start with the girls' dormitories." He moved slowly over to stand in front of Parvati, Lavender, and Seamus. "I'll check – _the_ – _boys_." He punctuated his words with a sneer, aimed directly at Seamus and Neville. With a snap of his cloak, the Death Eater whipped around and flew up the stairs, flying away like a bat.

Daphne made to walk closer to the door, but she waited, making sure he was out of earshot.

"_Godric's Balls_! Did you get my messages?"

Neville nodded and laughed at her exclamation. "Great work, Daphne."

"Everything's hidden from the dormitories then? Snape won't find—"

Ginny grinned. "Dobby hid everything, all thanks to your warnings."

"Do you know if Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff got the signals too?" Daphne asked.

"Dobby hid their things first," Neville replied. "He did ours last."

Daphne nodded, clearly relieved. "Just be thankful Snape sent the Carrows back to the dungeons. Or not," she said with a shiver. "That means they're getting closer to removing all the charms sealing them up."

"The old dungeons?"

She looked at Neville solemnly. "The ones where they did the old punishments."

He met Ginny's eyes. They shared the same apprehensive expressions.

"But, for now, it's Snape and I checking your house and Ravenclaw. He sent Draco to search Hufflepuff."

"He's 'Draco' now?" Ginny looked at Daphne with an upturned eyebrow.

"No . . . er," Daphne shook her head. "I-I'm not friends with Dra- . . . I mean _Malfoy_, I just . . . crap!" She rubbed her forehead, frustrated that the words she wanted to say wouldn't come out. "Bugger, this spy shit's hard." She raised a finger in front of Ginny's face. "I've been making nice with Pansy, and realizing she's not a hag all the time, and I'm feeling sorry for Draco and the only Slytherins I can muster any hard-core hate for are Crabbe, Goyle, and . . ." she looked up at the staircase to the boys dormitory, "well, just them." Daphne raised her head to the ceiling. "I want this to be over. Everything." She hung her head and rubbed her eyes. "Just over . . ."

"_Miss – Greengrass_!"

Daphne jumped up and stood at attention. "Yes sir." Ginny watched as Daphne stood perfectly still, arms crossed in front of her and her wand pressed hard against her arm.

(_Godric! She's standing like one of—)_

"Finished with your inspection?"

Daphne nodded silently.

"_Good_." Snape swirled his robes around and pivoted towards the entryway back out into the halls outside the common room. "Ready for Ravenclaw?" It sounded more like an order than a question.

Ginny watched as Daphne kept her head down and followed Snape out. All the Gryffindors waited, and when they heard the retreating footsteps touch stone instead of carpet, and the final thud of the portrait shutting, all of the students whooped and hollered, expressing their relief with excited cheers.

"Bloody hell," Seamus breathed out. "That was, well . . ."

"Better than we thought it would be?" Neville suggested.

"Gin," Lavender and Parvati walked up to her. Ginny was still staring where Snape and Daphne had just left the room. "Are you okay? Hey . . . we didn't get caught—"

Ginny nodded absently. And although she knew she should've been more excited about not having been discovered, seeing Daphne look so drained and watching her follow Snape as if it were a habit only increased her dread.

* * *

If Daphne thought the first Gryffindor raid had been easy, nothing could've prepared her for Ravenclaw.

She stood in the middle of the circular common room, feeling dizzy. They were surrounded by Ravenclaws all staring at Snape as he tore into—

"_Love_-good," he said, menace thick in his voice, "I will not tolerate any more of your delusions! Tell me everything you know about this rag of your father's. Who works for him? Who is this 'Nonnie Mouse'?" He shook the paper furiously in Luna's face, glaring at her like he wanted to rip her apart with his own two hands.

Luna stared back at Snape, but she did not smile at him. "I've already said, Headmaster, that I cannot."

He gritted his teeth. "Why?" he asked, practically spitting.

"Because Father understands the importance of protecting his sources whenever they ask him to, and the charms he uses are practically unbreakable. I believe 'Miss Mouse' is a pseudonym—"

"_OF COURSE IT IS, YOU STUPID GIRL!_" Snape face twitched and he panted rapidly. "It might interest you to know that your father is breaking at least five Ministry decrees by continuing to publish articles friendly to Undesirable – Number – _One_! By supporting unsubstantiated, false, and _ridiculous_ research, your father indulges in nothing but garbage and lies!"

"My father provides information to the public so they can decide whether or not to believe what is said." She, inexplicably, smiled at him. "After all, the motto of _The Quibbler _is '_Credere est cogitare, et cogitare est esse__._' It means—"

"'To believe is to think, and to think is to be'. Lovegood, I am many things, but an _idiot _is not one of them."

Daphne saw Michael, Anthony and Terry feebly attempt to cover their own chuckling with forced coughs.

"Very – _well_. Since you persist in this obtuseness, disobeying me and the Ministry, I shall teach you a lesson about playing the fool!"

He raised his wand. Daphne's heart fell.

(_No!_)

(_Not again! He . . . he wouldn't!_)

(_Stop him!_)

"NO!" She flew towards him, grabbing his wand arm. "Please, sir. D-don't do it—"

He yanked his arm away from her. "Greengrass," he said in a vicious voice, "you do not give me orders! Besides," he straightened himself up, a grin spreading slowly across his face, "I would like you to be the one to dole out the punishment here."

Daphne gasped. Around her, the other Ravenclaws did as well. Michael watched her carefully, but Daphne could see him breathing rapidly and his eyes moving between her, Luna and Snape.

"S-sir, with all due respect, I-I can't! I couldn't do it before on Longbottom—" She sounded desperate, pleading. Snape sneered at her.

"Greengrass, there are about a hundred things that I, not to mention the Carrows, can do to _Love_-good." He paused. "To teach her a lesson. You, girl, are not so creative."

His voice was menacing in tone; it sent chills up Daphne's spine.

"But you are quite capable of punishing the wrongdoers yourself." Snape leaned in closer to Daphne, whispering in her ear. "You can make a choice. Here and now. Take matters into your own hands. Or give her over to me and the Carrows and we will make her feel as if her body is _disintegrating_."

Daphne stared at him, horrified.

"Your choice, Greengrass. A simple Cruciatus will do."

She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, her fear increasing with each breath. She felt herself nod and she pulled her wand out from her robes. Shaking, she readied herself.

Daphne watched Luna as she continued to smile in her wistful way, her silvery eyes large and round. She had no idea what to do; hurting Luna Lovegood was like hurting a litter of puppies, like cursing pygmy puffs as they played with kittens. Not to mention that Michael was watching her. His friends were watching. They hadn't been there in that Dark Arts lesson. They hadn't witnessed her performing an Unforgivable on Neville Longbottom, no matter that it was the most feeble of attempts.

The thought of Michael witnessing her do such a thing made Daphne feel beyond disgusted.

"I am _waiting_, Greengrass."

(_Decision time._)

(_Handle Luna yourself, or let Snape destroy her._)

Daphne swallowed and exhaled. She was still shaking even as she slowly brought her wand up, pointing it at Luna. She focused on her arm. Maybe if she aimed there, maybe if she acted like she was putting all of her magic into it, she could make it appear that she was striking Luna with all the force she was capable of.

Maybe.

Daphne met her eyes, trying to mentally convey how sorry she was that she had to do this. She blinked; she couldn't be for certain, but she could've sworn Luna winked at her.

She opened her mouth. "_Crucio!_"

An odd, cold tingle shot through her arm. It wasn't like anything she had felt when she first cast the same curse on Neville. Back then, she had only meant to sting him. This time, there was a little more power behind the spell.

And her spell had found its mark.

"AHHH!" Luna yelped. She seized and her legs folded under her body. She fell to the floor with her eyes shut and she rubbed her arm. The pain had already dissipated, and Luna looked back up at her, wincing. She gave Daphne a small smile.

The Slytherin squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't bear looking at anyone else after what she had just done. Behind her, to her right, she heard Snape approach—

"Unbelievable."

Her eyes flew open.

"_EVERBERO!_"

An invisible fist struck Daphne's body and she flew backwards. She howled in pain as she felt her back slam into a couch.

Snape stood above her, tall and imposing. A dark expression clouded his face.

"Pathetic!" he said, gritting his teeth. He rotated his wand in his hands, growing more and more angry as he looked at her. "That was no punishment!"

He raised his own wand at Daphne. She recoiled, ducking behind her hand. Behind Snape, she could barely make out Michael, shouting things at Snape that he merely ignored.

"_Time._"

Snape paced back and forth, his face cold and impassive — but his eyes sparked with fury. "Time is the key to effective use of the Cruciatus. Applied for less than a couple of seconds, the curse will provide only mere discomfort to its intended target. After five seconds, the target will be begging you to stop."

He spoke coolly, letting his voice carry throughout the now-quiet room and swirled his wand, causing red sparks to fly.

"More than _ten _seconds of uninterrupted casting, the target stops talking. Nerve functions become compromised." Snape stopped pacing and stared at her; she felt her blood freeze. "Thirty seconds, and the target experiences seizures as the influx of pain overwhelms the neurological system. The body loses control of its most basic functions and the victim risks choking due to airway constriction or," he paused, "by swallowing their own _tongue_."

Daphne gulped. She could hear small cries from the younger Ravenclaws behind the Headmaster.

"Can you guess then, Miss Greengrass, what happens next? Should the target be exposed to the Cruciatus for even _longer_ than that? Let me ask this question to everyone in this room. After all," Snape smiled nastily at the others, "you _are_ Ravenclaws, are you not? You're smart enough to know _all _- _the - answers_."

No one responded. A few in the back grinned and nodded, absorbing as much as they could of Snape's speech. Anthony, Padma, Michael and Terry, as well as a couple of older students, all surrounded Luna. They stared at Snape, their eyes filled with fury and disgust.

"_One minute_!" The Headmaster's voice echoed through the common room. "One minute of absorbing the Cruciatus without interruption, and the target's brain begins to cook inside their own skull."

The room remained silent.

"Hallucinations. Impaired speech. The first signs of dementia." Snape looked at the students. "All it takes is this curse to be cast for one minute. There is a chance," he drawled, "that the target's mind might be saved, but only if the caster lifts the curse immediately, and performs no further magic on the poor soul." His voice was laced with malice. "Past the threshold of one minute, without any respite from the Cruciatus, the target will lose all control over their mental faculties, and their mind, and what is left of it, will be reduced – to – _mush._"

He raised his eyebrow. "Just ask Longbottom if you want to know the effects of the Cruciatus on the brain of a witch or wizard. His parents certainly can't answer that question."

Snape strode towards Daphne, halting mere inches in front of her and spoke rapidly. "What I expect from you in terms of punishment for Lovegood is the application of the Cruciatus for no more than ten seconds twice, with a single interval of ten seconds in between."

Daphne shook her head frantically. "N-no . . . I c-can't!" Her voice squeaked.

"If you don't, I shall punish her myself. I guarantee that I will go far longer than ten seconds. And I am _very _capable of casting a curse on that girl that she will feel in her bones for years."

Daphne stared at him, frightened and confused. Her mind raced through every conceivable reason, excuse, _anything! _Anything at all to somehow avoid what was looking to be more and more inevitable.

Her eyes caught Luna's. Daphne's brown to Luna's silver. She watched as Luna smiled at her, at the same time whispering something to Michael, something Daphne could not make out.

Her breath caught in her chest as she saw Michael look at her. He nodded ever so subtly.

Slowly, still shaking, Daphne stood up, grasping the couch for support. Feeling her wand, she could not believe how large, how leaden it felt. She didn't want to use it, she felt sick thinking about it—

But given the circumstances, what else could she do?

(_Let Snape — an actual Death Eater — tear her apart?_)

Daphne breathed in.

(_Luna and I are friends, right? We're both in the D.A._)

She breathed out.

She raised her wand, her eyes watering.

(_It will be better if I do it._)

(_Keep it short. Only twice._)

"Greengrass, get on with it! Or – I – _will_!"

Daphne's body stiffened. Almost automatically, she felt her mind emptying. She did not think about Michael Corner, who stood next to Luna, watching her intensely. She did not think about Luna Lovegood, regarding her with a soft, understanding expression.

She didn't think about Neville . . . the Weasleys . . . or Ginny or Harry or Hermione.

Or Ron.

(_Two times. Less than ten. Break for ten._)

Daphne's hand tightened around her wand.

And she opened her mouth.

"_Crucio!_"


	33. Chapter 32: Magic's in the Air

**A/N: **Parts of this chapter are unbeta'd. Thanks to stella8h8chang for looking over the initial version before I decided to rewrite most of the thing. This chapter makes reference to a conversation between Snape and Dumbledore from Chapter 24 of _Daphne Greengrass and the 6th Year From Hell. _I am embarrassed to admit the wizarding song is entirely my conception; hopefully it does read like actual wizard pop lyrics.

Rated M for mature themes and language. Thanks to all who have been following this story and giving me feedback, and for things that might need clarification or further work. I really appreciate your input.

* * *

**Chapter 32: Magic's in the Air**

Following Daphne's punishment, Flitwick was summoned immediately to Ravenclaw to help bring Luna up to the Hospital Wing. After running numerous tests and internal scans, Pomfrey and Eddie Carmichael were sufficiently satisfied that she had suffered no internal injuries and they allowed her to return back to Ravenclaw. Before Luna left, they made sure Flitwick and her D.A. Housemates escorted her. However, it was soon discovered that Luna had fared better than several other students, as the Hospital Wing began filling up with Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and a couple of Ravenclaws who had been caught outside of their respective Houses by the Carrows and those loyal to them. They had been unaware of the raids, as no announcement had been made for them to return to their common rooms.

And it had left them in the Death Eaters' paths.

Hufflepuff and Gryffindor suffered the worst injuries. Between them, fifteen students had been sent to the Hospital Wing with burns, cuts, scars, and aftereffects of extended use of the Cruciatus Curse.

Unfortunately, many of the injuries extended far beyond the physical.

"They Imperiused them." Eddie Carmichael told Ginny and Neville a few days later. He was deeply troubled. "They Imperiused them and forced them to Cruciate their Housemates. Over and over again. They had internal bleeding, broken bones and . . . and I know I'm supposed to be professional about this, but—"

Ginny and Neville remained silent, allowing Eddie a moment to compose himself.

The D.A.'s meeting following the raid was highly charged. Luna was greeted with several triumphant roars. The others ran over to her to hug her and to tell her how proud they were of how she handled Snape.

"Goodness!" she chirped. "One would think that the Humdingers were mating, as excited as everyone is!"

Right before the meeting began, Luna pulled Neville and Ginny away from the others.

"Oh, I'm all right," the Ravenclaw said in an airy voice. "I've been to see Madam Pomfrey every day this past week, but she hasn't found anything wrong. Since it's already been several days, they think I should be in the clear of any after-effects of the Cruciatus."

"That's a relief," Neville proclaimed, grinning broadly.

"You're too sweet. Oh, before I forget, here you go!" She handed them three rolls of parchments. "These should've been done ages ago, but we got a bit sidetracked."

"Luna, are these—?"

"The parchments with the names of all the D.A. members who have already graduated or are no longer here." Her smile broadened as she passed over the parchments that Blaise and Daphne had managed to steal. "They have some Memory Modification Charms on them, so once they're opened, they'll charm Pansy, Vincent, and Gregory to remember that these were the only students ever involved with the D.A."

Neville and Ginny looked at each other. "And take the suspicion off of us, should we start tearing up the school, eh?" Neville raised his eyebrow in a slightly mischievous expression.

The girls nodded. "At least for a little while," Ginny added.

Neville patted the rolls. "Those baboons won't have any clue who's going around the school, putting up all the anti-Ministry, pro-Harry Potter stuff."

"So, the threat of torture and the Cruciatus?"

"Is awful and frightening and all that, Ginny, but it's not going to change what I'm doing." The look of determination on Neville's face meant that there was no point arguing with him about the matter.

"Well, even if they think the entire D.A. have all graduated, they'll still blame us." Ginny grinned wryly. "At least us three. We were in the papers with Harry after the fight at the Ministry. They'll probably go after the other Gryffindors too."

"Let them blame me." A confident smile grew on Neville's face. "After what happened during the raid, I'm not going to let them intimidate me. And I think you two feel the same way. I'm sure Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender do too."

Ginny nodded in agreement. Luna merely smiled a little wider.

"That's settled. We should get this meeting started . . ." Neville's voice trailed off. "Wait a minute. Aren't we missing—?"

"Blaise! Where is she?"

They turned their heads towards the commotion. Blaise Zabini was walking rapidly over to a wall to toss his book bag to the ground. Behind him, an agitated Michael Corner demanded to know where Daphne was.

"Is Daphne not here?" Luna asked the others.

Ginny looked around. "I don't see her—"

"Have you spoken to her since the raid?" Neville asked. Ginny shook her head, realizing that she hadn't had any contact with Daphne for the entire week. No one from the D.A. had, save for Blaise of course. Anytime anyone approached her, there had been something in Daphne's demeanor, something cold and aloof in the way she carried herself. It seemed to create some invisible wall between her and the rest of the school. It didn't improve even when it was clear Luna would be all right.

"Shit," Ginny muttered under her breath, inwardly kicking herself that she hadn't done more to try to talk to her. She couldn't help but wonder whether she wasn't a little disgusted about what Daphne had done to Luna — and whether Daphne could've done more to stop Snape.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling guilt bubble in her stomach. "I really hadn't put much effort into trying to talk to her, to be honest." She looked back up at Neville and Luna. "Which probably makes me a really big bitch or something, but," she gestured at the blonde Ravenclaw, "she tortured you, Luna."

Luna, however, shook her head. "If anyone is to be mad at Daphne for cursing me, I think it should be me." She smiled. "And I'm not."

"You're not angry?" There was a tone of incredulity in Neville's voice.

"No. Well, mostly because I was there. I saw what Snape did to her. He did hurt her when she didn't curse me as hard as he wanted."

Neville mulled over something for a few moments. Finally, he relaxed. "Okay. I trust your judgment, Luna."

Loud voices rose behind them. The trio looked over and saw Michael and Blaise's argument heating up.

Luna eyes widened as she watched the wizards argue. "Maybe I should talk to her about what happened. It isn't healthy to keep such negative emotions inside for a long time. Perhaps if we're able to get everything out in the open, we can try to move past the raid."

Ginny was about to answer, when—

"Screw you_, _Blaise! I want to see her! She's bloody avoiding me. Just like last year!"

"And if she doesn't want to talk to you, _Corner_," the Slytherin spat right back, "I can't make her!"

"_DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT_!" Michael roared. "For the love of—! What the hell kind of friend are you? You're just letting her walk around like a zombie. Not taking care of herself. She looks _sick_! Like she hasn't eaten for a week!"

"NEWSFLASH, YOU CLUELESS DUMBFUCK!" Blaise raged right back. "SHE _HASN'T_!"

A hush fell across the room. Michael glared at Blaise, quiet but panting furiously. On either side of him, Anthony and Terry looked poised to hold their mate back from punching the other bloke.

"She doesn't eat. She doesn't sleep." Blaise's voice was quieter now and calmer. The room stood still, listening.

"Millicent says all she does at night is sit in the shower stalls and cry. She can hear her in there, hitting her head against the wall. She'll check on her, and Daphne'll say everything's all right. But she's not. Sometimes, she'll get sick. Or she'll make herself sick."

"Merlin," Michael whispered. "I didn't think . . . I thought she's been losing weight, getting paler, but, I-I thought I was seeing things."

Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long breath. "Snape and the Carrows have this all planned out, and they're sucking her in with them. They've already told her and Draco that on top of taking points, they're to start using the Cruciatus on disobedient students."

The D.A. let out a collective gasp. "No doubt they'll tell the prefects to do the same," Ernie muttered, shell-shocked. Susan stared at him, pressing her fingers against her mouth, horrified.

Blaise cast a glance at Luna, and then turned back to the others. "Why do you think you only see her during classes and meal times anymore. She doesn't want to catch anyone getting into trouble."

Ginny stepped forward. "But if she doesn't do her patrols, they'll hurt her."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course they will, you idiot! But right now, that's how she's dealing with everything. What else is she going to bloody do?"

Michael grasped Blaise's shoulder, twisting him around to face him. "I've got to talk to her."

"Are – you – _deaf_?! I already said—"

"I'm not taking no for an answer."

Ginny saw the determination in Michael's eyes and she couldn't help but smile. She knew he could be intense at times. As light and deft his sense of humor was, when Michael got something in his head, nothing short of "_Obliviate_!" could deter him. Michael would not and could not be swayed by anything at this point. He had a stubborn streak that could rival any of the Weasleys.

For better or worse.

"I'm _not_ giving up on her!"

"Nor should you, Michael."

Everyone turned to look at Luna Lovegood, now walking towards the Ravenclaw and the Slytherin wizards.

"Blaise?"

He regarded Luna as if she were a little pile of Niffler poo.

"Will you be using your Invisibility Cloak tomorrow morning?"

"No." It came out more as a question.

"Wonderful! Then you can let Daphne use it so she can meet Michael and me in front of Ravenclaw Tower."

"Luna," Michael said, hesitantly, "maybe it should be just me first, y'know? I'm her—"

"Boyfriend, yes. Of course you are. But you're not the reason she's making herself sick. I am." She smiled, her silvery, protuberant eyes hopeful and happy. "And the only way that she's going to move past this is if she talks to me."

Michael opened his mouth, but promptly shut it when he realized the truth behind Luna's statement. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

She nodded brightly. "Well then. Why don't we make some plans, hm?"

* * *

"Daphne?"

She winced, squinting her eyes in the bright light. Above her, floating somewhere in the ether was a familiar voice. Masculine. The tone made her feel warm inside.

"Huh?" Her mouth felt like it was full of marbles.

There was a giggle, light and girly, just to Daphne's left. "Maybe give her a little space, Michael?"

(_Michael?_)

"Michael!" She shot up, and then immediately felt the blood rush to her head. Daphne moaned. "Ohhh—"

"Hey there. You all right?"

She shook her head and looked up. "Michael? Wh-what? Where the hell am I?"

This was not her Slytherin dormitory. This was definitely not the Slytherin common room. The last thing she remembered was sitting at one of the long study tables with Blaise Zabini.

Then things went dark.

Now she lay on top of a plush bed with a soft blue quilt, surrounded by downy pillows. She looked up, and felt swoony with disorientation. The canopy above was dotted with stars and heavenly bodies that swirled around and around.

It dawned on her. She was in a bedroom. With Michael and Luna.

(_Dammit!_)

(_A girl tries real bloody hard to avoid people—_)

"Michael? Luna? Where am I? What's going on?"

Michael took a hold of her shoulders very gently. "Daphne, this is my bed, all right? In the seventh year boys' dormitory. It's just you, me, and Luna."

"How did—?"

"Oh, we had a little help from Blaise." Luna piped up. "I think he did an excellent job concealing you with his Invisibility Cloak."

"But I don't remember—"

"He knocked you out."

Daphne's jaw dropped. "He – did – _what_?!" She tried to jump off the bed, but Michael stopped her. "I'll kill him! I'll—"

"Well, you can't blame him entirely. He only did it because we asked him too. Although," Luna said thoughtfully, "I suspect that he improvised knocking you unconscious. We really didn't mean for him to do that."

Daphne grumbled under her breath. "Stupid . . . _idiot_—"

"Zabini is an idiot, we won't dispute that. But we needed to talk to you, Daphne. You've been avoiding us and specifically me. Again." Michael shook his head. "I don't want you to."

There was a note of something in his voice; it was at once gentle as well as insistent. Daphne softened at his tone, although her expression remained stormy. "Wasn't avoiding you," she feebly mumbled.

"Don't give me that. You were. Daphne, I'm not going to watch you run again, not after what happened last year." He paused. "If this is the only way to get you to talk to Luna about what happened a week ago, then fine. I'll kidnap you fifty times over to get you to talk."

She gritted her teeth, angry at feeling cornered. "I – don't – want – to!"

"But I do, Daphne." Luna sat with her legs crossed on the bed, her fingers intertwined, her radish-like earrings dangling from her ears. "If we're going to be in this together, we need to come to an understanding about what happened. And you need to understand that I know it's very likely to happen again."

Daphne couldn't say anything in response.

(_Again?_)

(_No._)

She tried not to respond to Luna. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about what happened that night. What Snape had forced her to do—

It was the only thing she could think about for the last few days. Looking at Luna's smiling face, Daphne remembered the small smiles that she had given her during the raid, even as Snape had ordered her to punish Luna for refusing to answer his questions—

And then the screaming.

"I don't blame you, Daphne. For what happened." Luna put a hand on her shoulder. Daphne recoiled from her.

"D-don't. Please don't."

Luna sat back down on the bed and brought her arm down. "Before we go further," she said after a few moments had passed, "you should know that, for a couple of days after it happened, I did feel some anger towards you."

Michael scoffed. "Daphne doesn't want to hear that—"

"I think it's important to be honest with each other. If we're going to get past this, we have to lay everything before the other person and not hide anything."

Daphne watched the younger Ravenclaw as she spoke. Luna's face and voice seemed to be more serious than she had ever heard before. The uncharacteristic gravity of Luna's demeanor, as much as her words, seemed to quell Daphne's mind.

"Go on."

"I didn't want to fault you for what happened. And I don't at all anymore." Luna gave Daphne a reassuring smile. "But there was this small, rather irrational voice in the back of my mind that kept saying, 'She could've done something more to stop it!' 'She didn't have to do what she did!'"

A sob escaped from Daphne's throat. Michael brought an arm around her.

"But I'm glad that I heard that voice. Because another part of me — a far bigger part — shouted it down. That voice reminded me of every word Snape said that night, about what they might do to me if you didn't punish me. I remember seeing your face, the fear in your eyes, how you tried to stop him before he hurt me." She canted her head to her left, her eyes once again soft and understanding. "That tiny bit of anger and fear that I felt, it was silenced. It evaporated. I remember what actually happened, and I know you didn't want to do it. I know that you were scared that Snape would do something worse if you didn't follow his orders."

"But L-Luna . . ." she sniffed. "Y-you have ev-every right to be angry wi-with me!" She sniffled again. "I should've told him to curse m-me . . . I could've stopped him. Could've Disarmed him or . . . or used a Body-Bind Curse on him. Something!"

"And if you had, Snape would've brought the Carrows in. And who knows what damage they would've done." Michael cupped her cheek and drew her face towards him. "I _nodded _at you to do it. Luna _told _me that she didn't see any way out of it." He brushed her bangs from her forehead, giving her a small peck. "Daphne, do you know how long your curse lasted?"

She shook her head.

"A total of seven seconds_._" Michael's voice was quiet and steady. "The first time you cast it, it lasted three seconds. The second time, you cast it for four. And instead of breaking for only ten seconds, you went over fifteen. Probably closer to twenty."

"H-how . . . how do you know—"

He shrugged. "I counted."

"I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . ." Daphne sobbed, her hand cupping her mouth. "Luna, pl-please forgive me—"

"You don't have to ask, Daphne." Luna again put her hand on her shoulder, but this time, Daphne did not wiggle away. "You already have it. And we need you back with the D.A. You've done so much already, and we can't do it without you."

Daphne chuckled; it sounded like a wet snort. "Sure I wasn't _that _missed."

"Blaise and Michael got into a fight and we concocted this plan. Everyone's been very worried about you."

"Some moreso than others." Michael said, as he took her hand in his. He gave her a gentle smile. She could barely respond.

Luna watched them, her smile never wavering. After a few seconds of silence passed, she spoke, a little more brightly than before. "I just remembered that I have some work to do." Very quickly, she hopped off the bed and straightened out her jumper and skirt. "I think I saw a new nest of Nargles upon the seventh floor. I want to make sure that they're flourishing, despite such a negative environment. So, if you don't mind." Without waiting for an answer, Luna left them alone, sitting together on Michael's bed.

* * *

Daphne used the shower room to freshen up after her sobfest. She finished drying her face off when she looked back up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

She stifled a gasp.

She looked like shit. Actually, that was an understatement. She looked like shit warmed over. Her cheeks were sunken in, her skin had a ghastly pallor, which only served to enhance the large bags under her eyes and the red streaks left by her tears. Daphne wondered exactly what it was about her that Michael was still fancying at that point, because right now she sure as hell wasn't seeing it.

Her clothes hung off of her like an extra-large sack and she wondered if she had lost so much weight over just the last week. It suddenly hit her: she hadn't been eating all that well ever since term started. She really hadn't been sleeping well either, particularly since the second week of classes, when Neville was tortured by Amycus Carrow.

This week had been one of her worst at Hogwarts, second only to last year after eavesdropping on Dumbledore and Snape. Daphne's chin trembled at the memory of their exchange. Hearing Dumbledore compare her childhood to that of Tom Riddle's, the Man-Also-Known-As Lord Voldemort had sent Daphne into a tailspin. It had plagued her with doubts about her own self, her desire and capacity to be a good person.

And now, here she was: Daphne Greengrass — Instrument for Torture.

Her stomach lurched; she thought she might be sick. Her hands grasped the sink, her fingernails nearly breaking as they pressed hard against the porcelain—

A long and slender arm slid around her waist, holding her tight.

"I'm here, okay?"

Daphne swallowed as she heard the deep, warm voice of Michael Corner whisper into her ear. She shook a little as far too many emotions rushed through her.

"Come with me, back to the dormitory, yeah? I want to do something for you."

Soundlessly, Daphne allowed him to guide her back to his bed. She stopped as he sat down and leaned against his pillows. "Yours?" She said, pointing at a guitar that was out of its case, polished and shiny, resting at the foot of the bed.

Michael nodded. "Come here." He scooted over and patted a spot next to him, as he reached over to grab his instrument.

Daphne sat down, sinking into the plush pillows and quilts. She watched as Michael plucked the strings, twisting and turning the pegs to tune the guitar.

"It's my mum's." He leaned in, strumming a few chords to check the tuning. "She's the musical one in the family. Probably got my voice and my skills from her." The last chord dissipated in the air and he did a little flourish with his hand. "Any requests?"

Daphne shook her head and stared at the quilt covering Michael' bed.

"Muggle or magical?"

She shrugged, not daring to look at him lest she start crying again. For a few moments, there was quiet. And then, like a gentle breeze, a few notes wafted through the air. At first they seemed a bit random, but then they started piecing together, building smoothly into a familiar melody. It was a song Daphne had heard over the Wireless sometime in the far past.

Before this moment.

Before this war.

"Is that the song by Plato Mercury and the Pegasuses?"

Michael grinned. "'Magic's in the Air'. It is indeed. You like it?"

Daphne finally allowed a small smile to peek out on her face. "It's all right. Not bad for magical music," she said, almost teasingly.

He chuckled and strummed a couple more chords. "Well, I'll tell you why this song's one of my favorites to sing."

"Why?"

Michael leaned over and whispered into her ear. "It's Terry's favorite when he's pissed on Ogden's."

She laughed and leaned back on the bed.

"Whoa! Stop the presses. Daphne Greengrass is laughing. Michael Corner: One. Forces of Evil: Nil."

She swatted him. "Stop it."

Still laughing, he winked at her and began strumming the piece in earnest. He played the introduction to the song and began singing in his lovely, slightly tremulous tenor:

"_There magic in the air, and every time you're near, I can . . . feel . . . your . . . spell._"

Daphne couldn't help it; Michael sang and played his guitar, and the more she listened, the happier she felt.

"_Everything's so clear, when we're together here, and no hex or curse can . . . stop . . . us._"

She knew she was smiling — the first in what felt like in ages. She felt her smile grow with every note that Michael sang and played.

For the first time in ages, the horrible feelings that had been brewing inside of her from the beginning of the term and that had increased over the past week seemed as far away as the small galaxies rotating around on the dark blue cloth of Michael's canopy.

"_Your spell gives me a light. There's no need to fight. I'll never Disappear from . . . you . . . now . . . _"

She hummed along with him, letting herself soak in the melody, his voice, the guitar. The more he sang and the more she listened, she felt something strong and real grow in her heart--

Daphne realized that if she waved her wand right then and there, she would've been able to produce the most corporeal Patronus that anyone had ever seen. For of all the moments in all of her eighteen years, she knew that this was, by far, her happiest one.

"_I'm uh-under your spell . . . and there's no where I'd rather be-e-ee . . . baby—"_

(_This is the greatest feeling in the world!_)

(_I love this._)

(_Well, don't just think it! Tell him—_)

She sighed happily. "I love you."

She smiled . . . and then she froze.

Her breath stopped.

(_The song! You meant you _love_ the _song_, you idiot!_)

She had no idea, no clue at all why she would've said _that_! Daphne clamped her eyes shut, not daring to look at Michael.

It was one thing hearing him say it to her. Daphne willingly accepted whatever his feelings were. They were his emotions, and she wasn't going to force him to feel one way or the other about her. He had said it of his own accord, and she had been fine with _that_ feeling coming from him.

But saying it back to him? After everything that had happened and everything that she had done? Daphne could feel herself welling up. Her chin quivered. What if he pushed her away? What if he said she was a monster, the kind that tortures his own Housemates? What if he chucked his guitar at her because he suddenly changed his mind and decided he didn't love her after all?

(_Oh Circe! Oh Merlin! I fucked up!_)

Anxiously, Daphne became cognizant of the immediate environment around her. Michael had stopped playing. She chanced a glance in his direction. He had turned towards her, his face almost level to hers.

And, of course, she was starting to bloody cry_. _

His mouth moved silently for a couple of seconds. "D- . . . did you just say, er—"

"_Yes_! Yes, yes, all right? I said 'I love you' Michael." Daphne drew her legs up and brought her head down, her forehead resting on her knees. "I don't know why I said it. Just ignore me!"

She felt his hand touch her shoulder, so she looked up. He was peering at her in a very odd manner. "Why would I ignore that? You know how I feel—"

"Because I suck."

"Daphne, you don't suck."

"B-bec-cause, I'm one of them! I hurt people."

"We already went over that, Daphne. Hey." Michael took her by the shoulders. "Look at me."

She did.

"Did you mean it?"

Daphne was terrified. She had said it, and almost immediately, she had wanted to take it back. It was that long-standing fear of rejection, the terror that was inside of her that she would be denied . . . _something_. Something she longed for more than she knew, more than she wanted to admit to herself.

A home. A place where she belonged, surrounded by people that loved her.

And suddenly, it was right there. In her body, in her heart. As much as she wanted to be loved, she also wanted to love in return, to willingly care and cherish another person not because it was a means to an end, or because there was some obligation to, but simply because she had chosen them, with all of their faults and all of her faults.

Maybe it was better to love someone even if they did reject her, because loving someone meant that she wasn't one of them_. _She wasn't one of those vile and murderous creatures waging war on the wizarding world. It meant that despite whatever may be demanded from her now on, she wasn't like Snape or the Carrows. It meant that everything Dumbledore had thought about her childhood had been wrong. It meant that, no matter how similar she had been to one Tom Riddle, Jr., she was not and would never be anything like him.

Because she could love.

She remembered Dumbledore's words during that fateful night when she had overheard him talk to Snape; "_To __love__ . . . allows human beings to accomplish truly __great __things__ . . . miracles, even._"

Dumbledore. That magnificent bastard had looked into her heart and had seen the good in her. He had seen her desire to find a home, a place where she belonged, with people she loved more than anything else in the world.

Daphne blinked, looked at Michael, and saw everything laid out in front of her.

She took a chance—

And she nodded.

She wasn't entirely sure whether she was actually moving her head. Daphne watched Michael's face, desperately wanting to make sure her confession wasn't all for naught.

He exhaled and blinked in utter disbelief. He never said a word, but instead held her face in both of his hands, leaned forward, and kissed her.

She froze again, but only for a microsecond before she felt something else stir within her. Daphne smiled against his lips, making sure they never broke contact. Their kiss deepened, both teenagers turning their heads every possible way to connect at every possible angle. She felt her body unfurling from its tense and clenched position and she slid down on his bed, reclining in full. Michael followed suit right next to her, grinning as he snogged her breathless. Giggling and laughing, Daphne realized that whatever tears had been forming in her eyes were gone. _Just gone_. And the more they snogged, the tighter they embraced, she felt it.

Happiness.

Pure, unadulterated happiness.

She broke apart from the clinch and looked at him, unable to wipe away the smile that filled her face. She couldn't stop touching him too. She snaked an arm around his waist and cupped his cheek with her other hand.

She hummed pleasurably. "I love you."

"I heard," he said with a laugh. She laughed and swatted him; of course he was teasing her at a moment like this.

That was Michael. Always quick with a quip.

His own happiness seemed to radiate from the playful, teasing smile that danced upon his face.

"So, what do we want to do about it?" she asked.

"I dunno. Lay here and not go to classes. _Ever_!"

She shrugged, twirling his hair in her fingers. "Most classes aren't so bad. Now, Dark Arts and Muggle Studies? Get new teachers, and I'm there with bells on!"

Michael laughed and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. "So. You _love_ me, hmm?"

"Yeah, I guess so." She swallowed and she looked at him with a more serious expression. "I'm sorry that it took so long for me to admit it. And I'm sorry that I . . . I took part in that raid. That I followed Snape's orders." She paused. "I wish I was a better person."

"Shh." He kissed her again and Daphne reveled as she felt his lips against hers. "You're a _great_ person. Don't let yourself think otherwise."

Daphne returned the favor. "Thank you."

"Always. And, just for the record, I told you that I love you because that's how I felt. I wasn't expecting to hear it back."

"Yeah, but it took me long enough to understand what all this was inside of me." Daphne looked at him, his face so close to hers, they were practically on top of each other. "I've never said that to anyone."

Michael nodded. "I kind of figured."

She smiled sadly. "You're the first. Of any person, really."

He cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbing small circles on her skin. "It's really different, but it feels really nice."

"Well, you're the first girl I've said that to, so we've got that in common," Michael responded. "I think my parents would like you—"

She snorted.

"—If they met you . . . what?" he asked with a laugh, "You're positively charming—"

She cackled.

"—And quite dainty, too!"

Daphne made a noise like snort and chortle combined.

"Rather ladylike if I'm being honest."

"Stop it!" She swatted him mirthfully.

"Never, my fair Miss Greengrass!" He gave her a tight squeeze. "I never want to stop making you laugh."

Daphne looked at him. She couldn't stop smiling, nor could she stop the feelings of giddiness, of simple joy from flooding through her.

It was so unlike a Slytherin . . . and it couldn't have felt better.

He tangled his fingers in hers and he leaned forward to kiss her once again.

Daphne hummed blissfully, when a thought popped into her head. "Hey. Where're your friends?"

Michael was completely focused on Daphne's neck, but he answered in a muffled voice. "Mmm? What friends? I don't have any friends."

"Boot and Goldstein. Where've you stashed them?"

"In the library with Stephen. They're working on two week's worth of Transfiguration and Charms. Plus," he added, bringing up his D.A. Galleon, "they'll let us know when they'll be finishing up."

"Oh?"

Michael smirked and cocked his eyebrow. "Oh."

Daphne recognized the look on his face. Mischievous and . . . _wanting._

"Mister Corner?" She grinned at him. "What's going on in that mind of yours?"

He answered her question not with words but with a very frisky hand. One that was traveling up her leg.

"You're kidding," she said, in a teasing, mock-exasperated voice.

"Well, I really haven't had much of a chance to properly thank you for the Astronomy Tower a few weeks back." He kissed the top of her chest, even as his hand continued its trajectory. "But, of course, we can always stop."

"_No!_ Er, I mean, w-we don't have to. If you don't want to."

He laughed, but it was deep in tone. The private laugh he always used whenever they were alone. "I think it's your turn for _left hoop_."

All Daphne could do was vigorously nod. He flashed her a casual smile, but the look in his eyes told her exactly what he was thinking. It was anything but "casual". He wanted her. He really, really wanted her.

And who was she to deny him?

She laid back on his bed and sighed. "I'm all yours. Do with me what you will."

And he did.


	34. Chapter 33: So Close to Evil

**A/N: **This chapter goes out to stella8h8chang who beta-read an original version of this ages ago, and to respitechristopher for reviewing this iteration. Really appreciated, dude!

The Dual Dialogue Charm is my own invention from _Daphne Greengrass and the 6th Year From Hell. _It's a short-range communication spell between two people that allows the caster to hold a conversation with a person so long as they're relatively nearby.

* * *

**Chapter 32: So Close to Evil**

On the Monday of the third week in November, Snape announced the new disciplinary procedures for the prefects—

"—Along with your Head Boy and Head Girl, they are hereby authorized to use corporal punishment to maintain order and _discipline_." There was an echo as the Headmaster's voice rang off the cold stone of the Great Hall.

The other teachers, save for the Carrows, paled as they listened. Daphne felt like she was turning green as Snape spoke.

Draco Malfoy looked neither pleased nor excited by the news. Instead, his fair skin had taken on a grayish tinge. He kept his eyes trained on Snape, regarding him with a haughty, unsmiling expression. Only when Crabbe and Goyle nudged him did Malfoy sneer in apparent approval.

Several things became clear in a matter of days. Except for Daphne and the sixth year girls' prefect, Willa Huxley, the Slytherin prefects were more than willing to use the Cruciatus Curse. The Death Eaters had also approved Bludgeoning Hexes and a set of semi-Unforgivable Curses, including Bone-Breakers and a variant of Incendio that could be contained in a slender, whip-like form to burn the target with frightening precision. At least two Ravenclaw prefects, Daniel Murker and Tilda Sweeney, seemed to not be bothered by the use of the more physically harmful curses and hexes — although they clearly had a hard time justifying the use of a curse as extreme as the Cruciatus.

Unless Snape or the Carrows happened to spot them disclipining another student. When that occurred, casting an Unforgivable was pretty much required.

"The Headmaster has also asked us to extend our patrols," Daphne said at the prefect meeting following the announcement. "Three hours extra at night, which means patrols now last until two o'clock in the morning. We'll have the new schedules for you next week. The weeks that you don't have the late night shifts, make sure you get enough sleep and catch up on your studies. It falls on your heads to maintain your responsibilities."

She shot pointed looks at all the seventh year prefects who were also in Dumbledore's Army. Daphne then returned to the agenda. She let out a tremendous sigh as she eyed the next topic.

"Th-this is a reminder," she said, holding back a strong surge of bile that threatened to come up, "if you see any students breaking curfew, the Headmaster has authorized the use of the C-Cruciatus . . . to . . . "

Her voice trembled far too much; she couldn't go any further. Draco Malfoy huffed impatiently and shoved past her.

"Use the Cruciatus to punish the students," he said with a sneer. Anthony shot Padma a sober look. Neville and Parvati fumed at Malfoy and Ernie and Susan refused to look at him.

He continued, his voice steady and cold, his awful smirk still on his face. "Anything past ten seconds uninterrupted, and things start getting messy."

He proceeded to instruct the prefects on Cruciatus casting, much in the same way Snape had instructed Daphne. She could hardly believe her ears; the cool detachment of his voice, the satisfaction on his face as he "educated" the others—

He was disgusting.

"You're not even bloody human!" she spat at him once they were alone in the prefect meeting room.

Stuffing his things into his bag, Malfoy snorted. "And you're a _pathetic _excuse for a Head Girl. If you can't handle it, go throw a wittle tea party. Leave the dirty work to the adults!"

"You told them how to throw the _perfect_ _FUCKING_ _CRUCIATUS_!" Daphne shouted at him, hardly believing what she was hearing. "You're just as evil as they are."

Malfoy picked up his bag and leaned towards her. "You know, you walk around with your head so far up your arse." He jabbed at her with his finger. "You've got absolutely no idea about anything, do you?"

"I don't even know what you're talking about."

He grunted. "Figures." Shaking his head, he walked to the door and threw it open.

She pushed past him, not wanting to follow him back to the dungeons. However, right as she brushed by him, Malfoy grabbed her by the shoulders and pinned her against the door. Daphne gasped as she looked at his face; his eyes were wild, as if they were shaking.

He jabbed his wand under her chin.

"_Do you know where Potter is_?!"

She recoiled. "What? Are you mental?"

Malfoy pressed himself even closer to her. "Where – is – _he_?" He slapped his palm flat against the door behind her head. "I know you fucking know!"

She watched him growing more and more enraged. She couldn't get to her wand, but if she freed her hand, she was certain she could punch him right in the crotch.

Or grab and twist. Either way, she wasn't picky.

"Answer me, you bitch! You . . . you_ whore of Gryffindor!_"

She snickered. "You're joking." She lifted her leg, but Malfoy shoved her against the wall again, and this time, his body was practically on top of hers.

"Get some new material, Malfoy. And get off of me while you're at it!"

He leaned forwards and hissed in her ear. "Not until you answer me!"

Daphne remained silent; she had no bloody idea where the hell Harry was, but at least Little Lord Malfoy didn't either. As the son of Lucius Malfoy, Draco would most certainly have a direct line as to whether Harry was within reach of the Death Eaters, or whether he was still at large.

Judging by the tone of his voice, Harry was nowhere near Draco or his father's sights.

But there was something off about Malfoy. Sure, slamming girls around was part of the abusive prat's method of operation, but he seemed desperate. Really desperate. The longer she stared at him, she thought something flashed across his face, some hesitancy or—

She had no idea what it was, but she wasn't about to find out.

He sneered at her, but his eyes roamed over her face. " I should let Baddock and Pritchard do what they want," he growled under his breath. "Teach you a lesson."

That did it.

She bent her leg as much as she could. And when she felt his hand slide slowly down her arm, she rammed her knee right into his crotch.

Malfoy howled like a kneazle hitting a wall. "OW! EEE-_YEAAAH_!" He clutched his groin and doubled over, panting and hissing in pain.

"Don't _ever _touch me like that again, you slimy bastard!" she shouted. "Or next time? I'll make your balls explode!"

She stomped past him. Unfortunately, the further away she got from the now emasculated Malfoy, his words stuck in her mind.

(_Graham Pritchard and Malcolm Baddock_?)

(_What the hell was that all about?_)

Pritchard and Baddock were two of the cruelest Slytherin sixth years that she knew of. But why in the world would they want to teach her a lesson? She thought she had done a good job of distancing herself from Harry, even though her ties to the Weasleys were best left ambiguous, particularly when talking to her Slytherin peers. More importantly, she was compliant with the wishes of Snape and the Carrows, as much as possible.

Although doing so made her feel like she was compromising her soul.

Daphne swallowed; she needed to ask Blaise Zabini about Malfoy's ominous words. Perhaps he could translate the rodent's warnings into something resembling coherence. She continued to walk, mulling over his words as she made her way back to the dungeons.

* * *

Despite the new disciplinary procedures and the new patrolling schedules for the prefects, Dumbledore's Army continued with their late night insurgency, making sure to post graffiti supporting Harry Potter all over the school.

A few nights following the prefect's meeting, Ginny found herself on a mission with Lavender Brown. The two girls comprised "Team Lion" and, armed with their wands, black clothes and wrappings for their faces, they hit the Muggle Studies and Dark Arts floor with gusto.

As she put the finishing touches on her last sign, Ginny grinned beneath her mask. The D.A. had been very fortunate to have so many older prefects, as well as the Head Girl among their ranks. They all made sure to keep the rest of the D.A. informed of the patrolling schedules. This evening, for example, Daphne had scheduled Anthony and Padma to the first four floors, which included the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies classrooms.

The only problem with this arrangement was that the Carrows and Snape insisted on monitoring the prefects' patrols, as well as patrolling the school on their own. This certainly provided the opportunity for a surprise visit from everyone's favorite Death Eaters.

"_Ginny,_" Lavender whispered. "_Five minutes_!"

She nodded. Lavender readjusted the black wrappings over her mouth.

Ginny finished the final sentence, dotting the exclamation point with a flourish. She stood back to admire her work through the narrow slit of her mask. She smiled and, just behind her, she could hear Lavender twitter her approval softly.

On the large wall directly in front of them, written in big bold block letters from Ginny's wand, several phrases blanketed the Muggle Studies' classroom—

"_**VIVA LA HARRY POTTER!**_"

"_**WE'LL FOLLOW POTTER TO VICTORY!**_"

"_**MUGGLE-BORNS ARE MAGICAL TOO! THEY'RE AS MAGICAL AS ME AND YOU!**_"

And finishing with the requisite anti-Carrow line—

"_**THE CARROWS AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT DIRTY ROTTEN BASTARDS!**_"

"Damn Shay and his football chants," Lavender said, giggling. Ginny nodded in agreement.

"Gin, it's time." Lavender smacked her on the arm. "Daphne's last message said the Carrows and Snape are checking up on the prefects and making sure they're doing their job."

Ginny nodded, when suddenly—

"Shit—"

"—a hippogriff!"

Both girls looked at their Galleons, which had just grown warm.

"_Alecto's heading towards Team Lion! Padma."_

They made sure their masks were secure and that Lavender's Glamour Charm to color the skin around their eyes black was still in effect. The girls snuck out into the hallway.

Lavender breathed out. "_Moonlight_," she whispered and pointed at the long windows that gave the corridor illumination. Ginny pointed to her left. The other Gryffindor gave her a "OK" sign, and they pressed themselves against the walls, hiding in the dark shadows of the hallway.

Ginny shuffled her feet side-by-side, clinging to the crevasses of the corridor's wall. She kept her breathing slow and steady. Every so often, Lavender's fingertips would brush against hers.

As they approached the corner that led to a doorway to a hidden stairwell leading to the sixth and seventh floors, she turned towards Lavender. "_Twenty paces_."

Lavender acknowledged that she heard her. The two girls continued to shuffle along the wall.

(_Damn. Team Badger has Blaise's Invisibility Cloak!_ _Would've come in handy right now._)

"_FILCH!_ Don't fucking dawdle! Get . . . over . . . here . . . this _instant!_"

The girls gasped and froze in their spots. Ginny could feel her hands grasping the stone tight as they heard Filch and Alecto Carrow approach them.

All of a sudden, Ginny felt a tap on her head and a cool trickle run down her back. Looking down, she jumped; she now blended in with the walls and floors.

"Wha—?"

"_Shut it_, _Ginny_!"

"Whoa!" She exclaimed in a harsh whisper. Lavender had blended in with the walls as well.

"_Disillusionment Charm._"

Ginny resolved to give Lavender a big fat kiss once they got back to the common room. "_I guessed_!"

They started moving along the walls, when they heard the stomping of heavy foot falls heading right in their direction. Ginny spied a tapestry about five feet from where she and Lavender stood.

She grabbed Lavender's hand and, with a surprised squeal from the girl, they ducked under the tapestry — right as Alecto Carrow and Argus Filch rounded around the corner and walked towards them.

They heard the sounds of somebody being kicked or hit. A sharp _MEOW _tore through the air, nearly causing Ginny to yelp in surprise. Lavender slammed a hand over her mouth.

"_Oww! _Ohh-hhh_ . . ._ M-Mad-Madam Cah- . . . Carrow, please h-have mercy! Mrs. Norris, she's of a de-delicate con-constitution—"

"_Pathetic!_" They heard Alecto cut him off. "Disgusting Squib. Begging for vermin!"

"No! N-n-no . . . I'm j-just askin' fer s-some compassion! Mrs. Norris," the plea in Filch's voice nearly broke Ginny's heart, "she's never done nothin' t' nobody!"

Filch gave a great cry. "M-Miss, I-I mean Professor! Please . . . don't kill me!"

"Oh, we wouldn't kill you, foul creature. We need you to help us with our punishments!"

Ginny's heart thudded in her chest. This did not sound good at all.

"I'll do anything! _Anything_! J-just pl-pl-please don't hurt Mrs. Norris!"

Their voices were trailing off down the corridor, finally passing where Ginny and Lavender were hiding. The two girls listened to the vicious sounds of abuse emanating from Alecto's ugly mouth and the pathetic entreaties for mercy coming out of Filch's.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Ginny and Lavender emerged out from under the tapestry. They swirled their heads left and right.

"Coast clear," Lavender whispered and sighed. "Kudos to Carrow."

"What for?"

Lavender hummed regretfully. "That was possibly the first time I've ever felt sorry for Filch and Mrs. Norris. That's the lowest level of life, kicking a cat!"

"Only the most depraved of individuals."

The two girls crept among the shadows towards the portrait that opened to the secret stairwells. The sooner they could tell the others about the near encounter with Alecto and the ominous warning about future "punishments", the better.

* * *

A week passed, and the mystery about the vandalism on the first floor classrooms had still not been solved.

Daphne sat on her bed, using her Dual-Dialogue Charm to hold several conversations with Michael and his two best mates. It was late, just before nine o'clock, and she had had a particularly rough day. Snape had been harping on her to find the vandals. Of course, she had come up empty-handed. And after providing lie after lie about what she was doing to catch the reprobates, she was exhausted.

Right now, what she needed was some cheering up.

Terry had just written a ghastly, but hysterical, limerick ("_There once was a wizard from Comstock. And he happened to have a very large—_"), when the door to her dormitory burst open. She looked up in time to see Pansy Parkinson flying into their bathroom.

Daphne tried to get back to conversation, but she heard sounds of retching coming from one of the stalls.

"_Michael,_" she wrote, "_I'll be right back_."

She sealed up her parchment, shoved it under her pillow, and made her way to the bathroom.

"Pansy?"

Daphne heard spluttering and spitting and moaning as it echoed against the stone and wood. She followed the sounds until she saw a pair of feet facing towards her from inside the stall furthest from the door. Carefully, she pushed the stall door open.

"G-go . . . away."

Pansy was draped over the toilet, heaving loudly into the porcelain seat. She coughed, and spat, and groaned loudly.

And Daphne heard the splash of sick hit the water.

"I'll go get help."

"No!" Pansy jerked her hand out, reaching for Daphne's. "D-don't . . . get anyone. Don't n-need—"

She retched again.

Wincing in disgust, Daphne hesitated. What the hell was she supposed to do? Leave Pansy alone with her vomit? Stand and watch the girl, ignoring the thick scent of bile filling the air?

Or help her out, no matter how unwilling she was?

And there was the million-Galleon question: why in the name of Merlin was Pansy Parkinson so sick?

Rolling her eyes, Daphne reached down and pulled Pansy's hair away from her face, letting the girl spit into the toilet without impediment.

Pansy swallowed. After several moments of spitting and wiping her mouth, she twisted around to sit on the cold floor. "W-water?"

Daphne rushed over to get her a glass. "Here," she said, keeping her voice mild. Pansy took it without hesitation, practically gulping it down in one drink. Daphne let her sit for a few more moments, composing herself before she asked what was wrong.

(_Oh Godric!_)

(_What if she's pregnant?_)

Holding back her own nausea at the thought of little Malfoys sulking and snarking around Hogwarts, Daphne was just about to open her mouth to ask her why she was so sick, when—

"Y-you cast the Cruciatus Curse on Lovegood, right? On the night of the raids?"

She was startled. Pansy, however, stared at her with a serious expression.

So Daphne responded honestly. "I did."

Pansy tore her eyes away from her face and focused on the floor. "D-did it make you sick?"

Daphne lowered herself to the floor and nodded as she crossed her legs. "I couldn't eat or sleep for a week. I made myself sick at night." She paused. Admitting what had been happening to her, even after a few weeks had passed, might be construed as a sign of weakness, especially by Pansy Parkinson. But looking at the state Parkinson had worked herself into, watching her lean against the toilet as if it was the only thing holding her up, and seeing how pale and worn and drawn she was, she decided to tell her, if only to draw the other girl in and create some grotesque bond between them.

"I've had nightmares about it. The screaming, the seizing, watching Lun- . . . Lovegood's face as I cursed her. Still do."

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "Every night?" she asked weakly.

"Every night."

Pansy squeezed her eyes shut.

"Why are you asking me these questions?" Daphne kept her voice mild, although she suspected that Pansy had been no victim; the sight of her getting sick in the toilet felt all-too-familiar. "Did someone attack you?"

There was no response, but the girl's chin trembled.

"What happened?" Daphne's voice was quiet, but insistent.

More silence . . . and then a soft sigh.

"I tortured two girls today." Pansy's voice was distant, as if she was speaking in a tunnel. "Third-year Hufflepuffs. Amycus asked me to. W-we left them on the floor. Unconscious. Twitching." She let out a sob that she had been holding back. "D-did it feel c-cold when you cursed L-Lovegood?"

"Cold. Like a shock." Daphne felt her own resolve breaking. "And then like you were dropped in a bucket of slime. Afterward, for a day after, you still felt like you were covered in ooze. It suffocates you too. Consumes you."

Pansy brought her arm up, pressing it into her face as she cried. "I've Blu-Bludgeoned others b-before! I've h-hit and f-fought! _And I HATE MUDBLOODS! _" She gasped in between her tears. "I hate them! B-but I've never felt l-like this." She crumbled before Daphne's eyes, her head falling into her hands, weeping freely. " Amycus said you g-get used to it . . . it g-gets better . . . _I'll _get used t-to it . . ."

But her words were barely audible. She continued to cry with her head low, rocking back and forth as she sobbed.

Daphne reached out, laying her palm flat on Pansy's back and patted her gently. She swayed until she leaned forward, collapsing onto Daphne and letting her comfort her until she was finished crying.

Eventually, Daphne managed to get her into bed, getting from her own nightstand a small vial of sleeping draught Eddie had given to her when she had told him about her nightmares. It was a special brew, one that allowed the person to sleep without the burden of dreams.

Or nightmares.

"Here. This'll calm you down." Daphne offered her the draught. Pansy grabbed it without argument, downed the contents, and promptly fell asleep.

Daphne eyed the empty vial and the now slumbering Slytherin. She snorted cynically.

"Bint."

Resolving to get more of the sleeping solution from Eddie tomorrow, Daphne returned to her own bed, pulling out the parchment that she had been using to communicate with Terry, Anthony, and Michael. However, she felt uneasy about starting up a conversation with them in the dormitory, regardless of whether Pansy was conscious or not.

Packing up her belongings, she headed down the stairs to the common room, fumbling with her Galleon to let Ernie and Susan know about the Hufflepuffs that Pansy had cursed. She pocketed her Galleon as she walked into the common room.

Daphne found a spot at a table and dropped her bag on the floor. Since she was up and her mind was racing around, she thought she should get some schoolwork done. Daphne got settled and looked around her, feeling more and more troubled as she did so. Some students were still up, listening to the Wireless as it played older, more traditional wizard songs. She cringed as she heard the shrill cries of a banshee choir screeching through the speakers and eyed the Wireless woefully.

Unfortunately for wizard music lovers, bands like The Weird Sisters, The Lethifolds, and The Vampire Babies had become scarce since the fall of the Ministry. They all had one thing in common: they were bands that promoted the marriage of Muggle music and wizard music in their art.

Now, the airwaves were inundated with more traditional wizard music, and the result made Daphne's ears bleed.

She picked up a quill, about to send another message to Michael through the parchment, when a series of laughs made her look up. She saw a disturbing sight. In the corner of the room, Crabbe and Goyle sat with sixth years Graham Pritchard and Malcolm Baddock, laughing at something Crabbe had just said.

She continued to look at them, narrowing her eyes as she overheard them joking about beating up a few of the younger students in the others Houses. She curled her lip in disgust as they chortled and punched their fists in the air. Crabbe waved his wand as if he was casting the Cruciatus, chuckling as he did so.

It nearly made her curse him all the way back to the Founder's Era.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Crabbe caught her eyes. He elbowed Pritchard and Baddock and pointed at her. The two boys turned their heads and flashed her grins, ones that chilled her bones and made her heart race. She didn't expect them to resemble Amycus and Alecto Carrow so much. They looked like the Carrows when they were just about to curse a student.

She continued to stare at them, unblinking and unmoving. Her stomach gave a horrible lurch as Pritchard puckered his lips. He blew her a kiss and leered at her, his face growing more predatory and feral.

Daphne felt her heart speeding up. What Pritchard was on about, she didn't know—

(" . . . _Should just let Baddock and Pritchard do whatever they want_ . . . _teach you a lesson . . ._")

"Oh – bloody – _hell_!"

Malfoy's words from a few days ago stampeded back into her head. She felt the blood drain from her face. It had just dawned on her what Malfoy meant, hitting her with all the force of a giant's fist.

It was disgusting and dirty. Never had she felt more vulnerable.

Pritchard and Baddock jumped off of the shelves they were sitting on. They slowly prowled towards her. Daphne felt a cold sweat breaking out on her brow. She cursed; they were going to attack her. Here, in the middle of the Slytherin common room! There was no Blaise or Millicent or Theodore to help her. And she wasn't quite sure she could trust anyone else to assist her in fighting back if necessary.

She was truly alone.

"Shit!" she exclaimed under her breath. Slowly, she reached into her robes and pulled out her wand, readying it under the table, forcing herself to quell her nerves. Crabbe and Goyle were getting up to follow them.

(_They wouldn't do anything here, would they?_)

(_Not in front of all these people!_)

But right then, the door to the common room opened. Pritchard and the others retreated back to their corner. Daphne caught Crabbe whispering something to him that made the other boy smile. She kept her wand out, and looked to her right.

Professor Slughorn was walking briskly towards her.

"Oh, good! Miss Greengrass, you're here," the Potions Master said breathlessly. "Please come with me."

Daphne saw his face. Slughorn looked as happy as ever, but something about his voice didn't quite gel with his demeanor. He sounded hurried and hassled. His hair, usually combed properly, looked mussed and frazzled, belying his apparently jovial appearance.

"Professor, is everything all right?"

"Why yes, yes. Now, if you just come with me, we can discuss the matters further."

"What matters?"

"No, no. Not here. Now, please," he said, a note of urgency in his voice, "gather your belongings. You need to come with me. And don't you worry." He tapped his nose with the tip of his finger. "I shall escort you without incident."

Daphne shoved everything into her bag, sealing it shut and shouldering the weight on the left side of her body. She snatched up the parchment she had been using to communicate with Michael—

When she saw a note, left by Anthony Goldstein.

"_Flitwick came for us. We're going to McGonagall's office. __Something about Michael's family. Tony._"

Daphne's heart stopped. She looked up at Slughorn, knowing her face had just paled. "Professor? What's going on?"

"Now now, there'll be time enough to talk and answer all of your questions. _Come_."

Daphne flew out of chair and followed Slughorn out of the common room, practically forgetting Pansy and Pritchard and the other sadistic bastards of Slytherin.

Once they were some ways out of the corridors of the dungeons, Daphne turned back to Slughorn. "Professor? What's going on?"

He shook his head, further frustrating Daphne. "Walls have ears, Miss Greengrass. Professor McGonagall asked me to escort you personally to her office."

She felt nauseous. "Oh no . . ."

Slughorn's face lost some of the superficial sparkle that he had worn in the common room. "Please don't, Miss Greengrass. We'll be there soon enough."

They got on the first set of stairs that led up to the first floor. "Does th-this have anything to do w-with. . . ." She thought about her words carefully, but then realized that she had gone to Slughorn's office earlier that year with Michael right by her side. "Does this have anything to do with Michael Corner? The Ravenclaw?"

"You'll see in good time, child."

Slughorn's dismissive tone infuriated Daphne. Why wasn't he giving her straight answers? Walls and eavesdroppers be dammed! McGonagall's office seemed ages away, even though they were now walking down the corridor that led to her door.

In the dim light of scattered wall sconces, flames flickered, casting foreboding shadows across Slughorn's and Daphne's faces. Despite the low light, Daphne craned her neck, spying something in front of McGonagall's door.

There were two figures, small and grey, pacing back and forth in front of it.

She yelped when she realized they were house-elves. One was old, wearing a clean white tea towel with a crest on it. And the other wore several hats all piled on top of each other, an overly-large, knobbily-knitted sweater, and many, many socks. The house-elf wearing so many different clothes jumped up in the air as soon as he noticed her, nearly knocking over his stack of hats.

"Oh! Miss Daffy! Dobby is so happy to see you! Dobby and Kreacher is waiting for you!"

She ran up to him. "Dobby, what's going on?"

Slughorn cut in on her. "Please let Professor McGonagall know that we are outside. Er, Dobby. _Please_." He regarded the house-elves, particularly Dobby, with an incredulous expression.

Dobby bobbed his head, his hats weaving perilously as he did so. He knocked on the thick wood door in a melodious way, making Daphne think this was some sort of signal that had been worked out between him and McGonagall.

Her heart pounded as the door opened. McGonagall's face emerged, with no sign of any trouble or distress.

"Miss Greengrass. Please come in." She beckoned her with her arm. As Daphne stepped past Dobby and Kreacher, she heard Slughorn speak behind her.

"Minerva, do you need me for any other matters?"

"It would be best if we can ensure Snape and the Carrows are preoccupied for the next few hours."

Slughorn blanched. "Pr-preoccupied? Y-you surely don't mean—?"

"_Yes_, Horace." McGonagall's voice sounded a little strident. "I'm sure you can think of something, with your _exemplary _intellect." She gave him a nod, and shut the door before he could respond.

As soon as the door closed, McGonagall's face fell, and Daphne felt her hands on her shoulders. "Miss Greengrass, please come this way. We have an emergency that concerns you, Miss Weasley, and Mister Corner."

Daphne let out a gasp, but she allowed McGonagall to lead her towards the couches in front of the large fireplace next to her desk.

And they weren't alone.

Michael Corner was already seated, his face red and blotchy. Daphne barely registered anyone else in the room. She broke away from McGonagall and ran towards him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, cupping his cheeks. Michael shook his head soundlessly and he pulled her to him, falling into her body, burying his head in her shoulder.

There was a cough behind her. "Miss Greengrass?" McGonagall asked.

Daphne pulled away, finally seeing Ginny, Terry and Anthony for the first time. Ginny's face, too, was streaked with red. She had clearly been crying.

"Ginny?" she whispered.

"Miss Greengrass," McGonagall repeated, extending her hand. "Please sit down."

Daphne took a seat in between Michael and Ginny. Terry and Anthony resumed their seats on the other side of Michael. She noticed Flitwick standing next to the head of Gryffindor House.

"Approximately one hour ago, a small group of Order members and Aurors were attacked by Death Eaters and Ministry officials as they were transporting a group from one of our protected safe houses."

She felt like her chest was collapsing. "No."

McGonagall's mouth pressed together in a firm line. "We don't know much as of right now. But what we do know is that Mister Corner's parents were among those who were being transported."

Daphne's grip around Michael tightened as she felt his body shudder.

"And Arthur Weasley was supposed to escort them to the departure point."

"What?" Daphne's eyes flashed over to Ginny. The Gryffindor grasped her free hand. "A-Arthur?" Her voice sounded weak. "They're all right? Aren't they? Arthur and Michael's parents?"

"We don't know, Miss Greengrass." McGonagall said. "And we won't know the status of survivors for some time yet."

Daphne shook. Arthur Weasley? The man had been so good to her — hell, his entire family had been.

And Ginny.

They hadn't been on the best terms since the raid. Although Ginny had been civil to her, there was a definite chill in their relationship. They had barely spoken. Daphne really couldn't blame her, though; of course Ginny would be loyal to Luna, especially over the girl who tortured her. Despite the fact that said girl had been living with the Weasleys and she knew Daphne better than—

It didn't matter. What was done was done.

But this? All of this, with the safe house, and Michael's family and Arthur Weasley . . . this was no time to dwell on any awkwardness. Ginny needed her friends with her. Her family. Arthur was her father, for Godric's sake! Daphne had lived with them since the summer. Right now, she was the closet thing to a family that Ginny had at school.

She chanced squeezing Ginny's hand, and felt heartened when the Gryffindor responded in kind.

McGonagall regarded them all with sad eyes. "I wish I had more information for you." Her own voice trembled as she spoke. "All we can do for right now is wait."


	35. Chapter 34: Tragedy Strikes

**A/N: **Harry Potter is the property of JKR. Thank you to all my loyal readers; I really appreciate and value your feedback and support of this story, as well as my other works.

I do have a new story that I published on Wednesday. "Two Wrongs" for the hp_unfaithful community's website. Be warned: it's M for language, very mature situations (namely some rough sex), and it's Draco/Daphne, Draco/Astoria, and for all you loyal "7th Year From Hell" fans, Daphne/Michael. I would love for all of you to check it out and let me know what you think.

* * *

**Chapter 34: Tragedy Strikes**

"Wait."

(_Wait?_)

Ginny had never hated a word so much.

Sure, there was a war raging outside of the stony walls of the Scottish castle. But she wasn't ready for this news. She wasn't prepared to hear about her father's life and how it might be—

(_No._)

Her evening leading up to this fateful moment had been rather uneventful.

Ginny had been sitting in the common room with Neville and the other D.A. Gryffindors, discussing ways in which they could continue with their late-night incursions to put up more pro-Harry, anti-Ministry graffiti all over the school. Specifically, making sure that the identities of the students in the D.A. would stay concealed and that the source of the pamphlets that they had been distributing remained confidential.

Suddenly, she was s struck by inspiration. After all, living at number twelve, Grimmauld Place for a year had provided her with some first-hand experience with Concealment Charms.

She snapped her fingers. "Oh of course!"

"Of course what?"

"Neville, we can do a Fidelius Charm."

He stared at her with narrowed eyes. "Isn't that a freakishly complicated spell?" Seamus, Lavender and Parvati nodded in agreement.

"Er, yes it is."

"And aren't we at a distinct disadvantage not having Hermione here?" Lavender said; her eyebrow quirked as she spoke.

"Maybe. Look, Hermione's one of my best friends, and she is brilliant. But aren't we forgetting that we have a whole arsenal of Ravenclaws, not to mention you, and Parvati and Anthony. Neville, you're in Advanced Charms too, are you not?"

Neville blushed, but he nodded "Advanced Charms are one thing; insanely complex Concealment Charms are another."

Ginny grinned. "I think if we put our minds together, and make decent use of the library, we can figure it out."

The Gryffindors looked at each other sceptically. After a few moments, Neville shrugged. "Well, let's bring it up at the next meeting—"

"Miss Weasley?"

Professor McGonagall's voice cut through her memory; she was no longer in the Gryffindor common room, but she was back sitting on the tartan-covered couch in front of her professor's fireplace. Sniffling, she wiped at her wet cheeks. "Yes, Professor?"

"Would you like some tea while we wait?"

Her body sagged. There was that horrible word again.

Wait.

Wait for the end of the war, wait for Hermione and Harry and Ron to return, wait for a Weasley to die—

Her breath rattled. "N-no. I'm fine."

McGonagall nodded, setting the steaming teapot down on the table next to a tray of biscuits. "Once again, I'm sorry that all of you have to wait. Hopefully, we'll hear something before this evening's over."

A light shone brightly in the office. All heads snapped around to look at the source. Gracefully, gleaming as if a beam of moonlight, a corporeal Patronus in the form of a lynx landed in the middle of the room. Ginny and Daphne leaned forward, clutching each other's hands. They looked at each other and whispered, "Shacklebolt." Michael, Terry, Anthony stared at the image with curiosity and awe.

The lynx opened its mouth. Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice boomed from it.

"_Arthur Weasley and the Corners are doing fine. Fifteen have gone to sleep. We'll have more information soon._"

And the Patronus ran back into the air and disappeared.

"Oh!" Ginny and Daphne both fell into each other as the Ravenclaw wizards all embraced and smacked Michael on the back.

"He's all right, Ginny," Daphne said with a shaky, but happy, voice into Ginny's shoulder. "Arthur's all right!"

The girls released each other, and Daphne went over to hug Michael. The young couple embraced, overcome with emotion. It was an innocent clinch, but what struck Ginny was the way Michael stroked her hair, the way Daphne's hands seemed to grasp his jumper, drawing him as close as possible to her, the way both of them buried themselves in the other person. They seemed to forget that others were in the room, watching them.

Ginny smiled, feeling happy that they had each other, feeling sad that she couldn't share the moment with her family.

Or with Harry.

Just to their left, Ginny could hear McGonagall and Flitwick discuss the message.

"Fifteen casualties? Thirty refugees of the sixty at that safe-house were supposed to be transferred, Minerva. That's half! Half of the refugees that were to leave England tonight."

"I know. I'm waiting to hear from Argus. Perhaps he knows something."

Flitwick rubbed his eyes; he was clearly tired and worn down with the emotional upheavals of the evening. "Merlin, help us!"

Ginny tried to ignore it, to focus instead on her father's life and Michael's parents, all of which had been spared. Thankfully, both Anthony and Terry came over with big smiles on their faces.

"Hey Ginny, I'm happy your family's all right." Anthony said, smiling.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, yours and Michael's," Terry added, relieved. "I can't even imagine what it would've happened if . . . ." Terry shivered and spun around, grinning broadly at his other friend. "Oi, Mike! When we get back to our dormitory, how 'bout we break open the—" He threw his head back, making a drinking gesture with his right hand. Michael laughed and held his thumb up.

"Mister Boot! Must I remind you that your teachers _are standing right here_?"

The room dissolved into laughter as Terry looked at McGonagall awkwardly. "Er, I could always share it," he squeaked, flashing her what he thought was a charming grin.

It didn't work. The Transfiguration professor stared at him, her face reddening, her lips pressing together in disapproving fashion.

Flitwick, however, had different ideas.

"Dobby!"

There was a loud pop inside the office. Dobby stood before the Charms professor, giving him a salute.

"Dobby is here sir! Ready to serve the kind Professor Flitwick."

"Dobby, there is a small barrel of twenty-year-old oak-matured mead sitting in my office, with some goblets in a cabinet. Would you be so kind as to retrieve them for us?"

"Yes! Kreacher can help Dobby, too!"

"Thank you, good house-elf."

With a nod and another pop, Dobby Disapparated.

"Filius, you're not thinking about serving our students mead?"

"I am, Minerva." He held a finger up in the air. "I will go on record and say that the best remedy for frayed nerves is one glass of Goblin Special oak-matured mead. This is nothing more than a medicinal remedy! Not only for them, but for us as well. Besides, they are of age."

McGonagall barely had any time to respond when Dobby returned, a small barrel floating in front of him. Kreacher was just behind, Levitating goblets. Flitwick was already jiggling the spigot and filling up goblets, floating them around the room.

Terry grinned and elbowed Michael and Anthony as they took their glasses. "We've got the best Head of House _ever_!"

"Watch it, Mister Boot! I can still Transfigure your drink into mud!"

McGonagall's comment made Terry splutter into his goblet as he took a sip.

Flitwick finished distributing the drinks around the room, hesitantly offering McGonagall her own goblet. "Minerva, would you care for some? Or, if you have any objections—"

She flashed him a stern look — before taking the cup into her hands. The Ravenclaws smirked.

"I saw that, boys." McGonagall's face softened and she raised her glass into the air, in a toast. "To your families, Miss Weasley, Miss Greengrass, and Mister Corner." A smile finally appeared on her face. "To all of you families. May they stay safe and protected through these dark times."

"Cheers!" Everyone clinked their goblets together.

"Wonderful toast, Minerva!" Flitwick gave her a bow before taking a sip.

"Thank you Fili—" she hiccupped and blushed, pressing her fingers against her mouth. "Oh my! I wasn't expecting that."

"The true beauty of Goblin mead. Very inconspicuous at first, but then — _POW_! It sneaks up on you. Much like a goblin, actually." Flitwick said with a smile.

Terry had already finished his, and was sneaking back towards the barrel for more, whistling with mock nonchalance.

"Be very careful with that mead, Terrance. It can get you when you least expect it!"

Michael snickered under his breath. "Flitwick's never seen Terry down half a bottle of dragon rum in less than half-an-hour."

Ginny snorted. "Got the tolerance of a horse, does he?"

"More like a Norwegian Ridgeback!"

Daphne and Ginny both laughed and took more sips from their cups. Ginny looked over at Daphne, who smiled back at her. Her face fell; she realized this was probably the first time in quite a while that she had found herself in such close physical proximity to Daphne ever since that blasted raid.

She really needed to get over this. Luna and Daphne had already talked. Daphne was back doing things with the D.A. Holding grudges, especially now when everything was so unpredictable, was stupid.

After all, anything could happen in the blink of an eye.

"Hey Daphne, um," Ginny said, her head shaking a little bit, "I know I've been really distant lately. And, well, erm . . ."

Daphne sniggered. "You don't have to apologize to me."

"No, I do."

The Slytherin shrugged in an awkward manner. "Well it really should be me apologizing for torturing one of your best friends," she mumbled.

Ginny sighed. "Daphne, I should've known better. You were forced to do that to Luna. Really, we should be angry with Snape."

"Bastard."

"I'd go with giant fart, but sure. Bastard works fine." The two girls laughed.

Her mirth receded, and Ginny wiped her eyes. "Luna said she had forgiven you and you two both talked about it."

"You felt loyal to her, Ginny. I understand." Daphne nudged her with her elbow. "Can I suggest something?"

"What?"

"From now on," Daphne said, smiling but serious, "we talk. If something goes wrong, or anything like that happens again, I won't run away before talking to you first and you won't get angry without talking to me first. Deal?"

She held out her hand for Ginny to shake. She grinned and shook her hand. "Deal."

As if on cue, the fireplace roared to life with a bright blue flame.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked.

McGonagall hurried over to attend to the hearth, Flitwick just behind her. "Kingsley Shacklebolt and his brother, Hermes, managed to create a Floo network outside the normal Ministry system. They started this two years ago, while the Ministry was obstructing our efforts to fight You-Know-Who. We only use it for emergencies and for encrypted parchments."

"Ah, Hermes was a fine student! One of the finest I ever had in my classes. He managed to parlay his talents in Charms and Transfiguration into a high-level position in the Department of Communications." Flitwick added, his tone wistful. "Such a brilliant mind!"

McGonagall peered at the blue Floo flames. "The connection will stay open for only a few minutes before the Ministry is alerted to its presence. But it does well for quick communications."

A note peeked out of the fire. McGonagall reached in to grab the parchment. The flames receded back into a normal fire as she unrolled it. She waved her wand and muttered an indecipherable incantation.

To their right, Ginny overheard Anthony Goldstein whistle under her breath. "Wow! That's an ancient encryption spell if I've ever heard one."

"How the hell do you know that?"

Anthony stared at Terry. "Because, you git, I stayed awake during the unit on Ancient Egypt in Binns' class. Anyways, don't you, Mister 'I've-Got-A-Brain-For-Dead-Languages' recognize Ancient Egyptian?"

Terry simply stuck his tongue out at him. Michael nudged his friend in the stomach.

"Would you two pipe down? This could be bad news."

The students turned to look at McGonagall and Flitwick as they decoded the parchment. Ginny held her breath; if there were other casualties from the fight, that note might contain their names.

And what if it was someone they knew? Dean, Colin, Dennis . . . they were all on the run. What if they had been at that safe-house? What if one of her brothers, or her mother, had been injured tonight. What if—

Ginny heard a soft rattling sound. She looked up and saw the parchment trembling slightly in McGonagall's hands. The colour fell away from the professor's face; in an instant, she seemed far older than her years.

McGonagall let out a gasp, which turned into a sob. Flitwick put his hand over hers.

"Minerva, I'm so sorry—"

She pressed the back of her hand over her mouth and disappeared around the corner of her office.

"Professor, what happened?" Ginny sat on the edge of the couch, unable to move.

"Pr-Professor McGonagall," Flitwick began, his voice breaking, "has a godson, Argus Dearborn. His father, Caradoc, was a soldier who fought with us during the First War; h-he was presumed dead when his body went missing and was never found.

"Argus is," Flitwick caught himself, "_was _an Auror. He was one of the few that Kingsley Shacklebolt recommended personally to join the Order." He looked down at the paper again. "He switched places with your father, Miss Weasley, because Argus and Kingsley both wanted an experienced Auror helping with the first round of evacuations." He blinked and swallowed. "Argus was killed tonight in battle."

Ginny fell silent. She felt numb, guilty. They had been rejoicing no more than five minutes ago because Arthur Weasley and Michael's mum and dad were all right. It was as if no one else had been harmed. Now? Now there were actual casualties, ones with names and faces, and McGonagall had lost a loved one, a godson that she must have cared for after his father died.

Flitwick seemed to read her mind. "Oh my dear, don't feel bad for feeling happy that your father is all right."

"B-but how can I not?" Ginny felt her eyes water. "Even though we're celebrating, it doesn't matter because people are dying, and the war's still going on—"

"Miss Weasley, your father is all right, so we should be celebrating." He put a hand on the top of her head, giving her a comforting pat. "You'll find that even in the darkest moments, that if you keep this moment in your heart—"

He was unable to continue because the Floo erupted bright blue again.

Another roll of parchment fluttered out of the fireplace.

(_Oh no. What if there have been more deaths?_)

Ginny's stomach lurched.

(_Please say there are no more bodies. Please say there are no more bodies. Please say there are no more bodies . . . . _)

She hadn't realized she had been holding Daphne's hand until she felt her sweaty palm against the Slytherin's. Flitwick waved his wand exactly as McGonagall had, and he began to read the parchment. Ginny watched him, studying his face for any reaction, good or bad.

"_No_!"

Flitwick's face paled in shock. His hand came up over his trembling mouth, pushing against his face as tears welled up in his eyes.

After a moment, he seemed to realize that there were others in the room watching him. He walked towards them; Ginny could feel all of them tensing simultaneously as he got closer.

Flitwick swallowed and then he started speaking, but he aimed his words towards the three Ravenclaw boys.

"The evacuation of one safe-house was supposed to take place today for one-half of the refugees that were staying there. Michael, your parents were supposed to go today but your mother is being treated for a medical emergency that would've made travel impossible."

Instantly, the blood drained from Michael's face. He looked as white as a sheet. "Is she okay?"

"She'll be fine, but she couldn't travel at the moment. So, your mother and father gave their spot away."

Here, Flitwick stopped talking. He flexed his jaw.

"Mister Boot," he said, turning towards Michael's best friend.

"Yeah?"

"They switched with your family."

An intolerable silence blanketed the room. Ginny's breath stopped in her throat. She thought there wasn't a single person in the room who didn't have the same reaction to the news as she did.

It was Terry who broke the endless quiet.

"What? I-I don't get . . . but they're all right? Right?"

Flitwick's eyes fell back to the parchment, completely at a loss of what to say.

"Right_? Professor_?!"

Michael and Anthony both reached over to Terry but he shrugged them off violently; he was focused solely on Flitwick and the parchment.

"T-Terrance," the Charms instructor said with a shaky voice, "I'm so sorry."

Terry growled and snatched the parchment away from Flitwick. Turning his back away from the others, he read it in silence. The others watched him, not daring to breathe or speak or move.

Ginny and Daphne watched as his shoulders began to quiver. He flipped the parchment many times over, staring at it as if it wasn't real. There were grunting sounds coming from him, but no words came out.

Michael and Anthony slowly got up off the couch and walked towards him. Michael was the first to reach Terry. He put his hands on his shoulders, to let him know that he was there for him.

But when he touched him, Terry exploded.

"_GET OFF ME!_"

"Terry!" Michael raised his hands. He spoke to Terry, but his voice shook with emotion. "Mate, it's m-me. I'm here. So's Tony."

"We're not leaving your side." Anthony said.

Terry bared his teeth and pointed his finger violently in Michael's face, crumpling the parchment in his hand. "_You. _You st-still have a mum and a dad." He was shaking and breathing in huge gasps. "_YOUR MUM AND DAD ARE ALIVE AND MINE ARE FUCKING DEAD!!_"

"Oh Merlin! Terry, I'm sorry . . . I'm so sorry mate—"

And Terry punched him.

Michael fell backwards and into the coffee table. It smashed into pieces. Daphne, Ginny and Flitwick ran over as Michael winced in pain and cupped his bleeding nose. Ginny could see that he was struggling to not get angry with his friend. However, he took only one look at Terry and his face clouded with sadness.

"_Terry_! Don't mate! T-talk to us, man." Anthony extended his arms out in front of him, in case Terry decided to take another swing. "We're h-here for you, Terry. We want to help you. Just let us—"

"_Fuck off!_" Terry sobbed. "_FUCK OFF_!" Tears rolled down his face. "_FUCK!_"

He started kicking and punching the walls and screaming and breathing and heaving in gasps.

"_FUCKING BASTARDS!! FUCK THEM! I HATE THEM ALL! I'LL KILL THEM LIKE THEY KILLED THEM!! FUCK THEM!! I FUCKING HATE THEM—"_

"_STUPEFY!_"

The Stunner hit Terry immediately and the Ravenclaw fell to the ground. All heads turned as a red-eyed McGonagall emerged from the back. She looked at Flitwick.

"Filius? Is it true?"

He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had been in and answered McGonagall. "Terry's parents and Michael's parents switched spots in the refugee evacuation today. We didn't know about it until just a few minutes ago."

McGonagall stared at him with horrified shock. "I'm . . . I'm so sorry for Stunning him, but oh! The poor boy." She pointed her wand at him and uttered, her voice breaking, "_Levicorpus._"

Terry's unconscious form floated past the other students and fell onto the now empty couch. McGonagall used her wand to pull a tartan blanket over him.

Flitwick threw a handful of Floo powder into his fireplace. "_Hospital Wing!_"

Eddie Carmichael emerged from the flames with a very professional demeanour. "Professor Flitwick, is there something wrong?"

"Mister Carmichael, we need assistance here."

Eddie nodded, and ducked out of the fireplace for a few moments. He came back and stepped through, carrying a leather bag with him. "What's happened?"

His eyes scanned the room, from Michael's rapidly bruising face, to the shattered coffee table, to Terry Boot lying unconscious on the couch with two bloodied hands. And the grim faces among them.

"What's going on?" Eddie asked anxiously. He laid his bag down and tended to Michael and Terry's injuries as Flitwick and McGonagall told him of the events of the last hour.

* * *

The trek back to Gryffindor Tower was agonizing.

Ginny had to stop several times to lean against the cold stone, pressing her head against it in a feeble attempt to stop crying.

"Oh, my dear . . . you look a sight!" The Fat Lady said as soon as Ginny approached her portrait.

"Pure-blood." Her voice was flat and monotone.

The portrait swung open, and Ginny found herself immediately surrounded by the Gryffindor members of Dumbledore's Army.

"Ginny! Oh no . . ."

"Are you all right? Here. Sit down. The fire's going—"

"Ginny, is there anything we can do?" Neville asked. He sat to her right, Seamus and Lavender next to him. Parvati sat to her left.

She stared at the fireplace for what must have been one minute past forever.

Neville looked at the others. "D-did something happen to your family? Ginny . . . we're here—"

"Terry lost his mum and dad."

Ginny continued to stare at the fireplace, barely aware that she had said anything. A horrible, gaping silence befell the small group.

"Terry?"

She turned to her left. Parvati's voice hung in the air. She looked at Ginny with huge, tear-filled eyes, her mouth moving soundlessly.

Ginny could only nod slowly until she regained her voice. "Terry's. Not mine. Not Michael's. Terry."

Neville and Seamus sat still, stunned. Lavender grasped her face with her hand, trying to control her sobbing. Ginny, however, continued to look at Parvati. She was shaking; finally, she could no longer stop the tears from falling. They streamed down her cheeks.

"N-no." Parvati's eyes fluttered and her chin shook as she continued to cry. "Padma," she whispered quietly, as she reached into her pocket for her Galleon. "She'd know something. She's in Ravenclaw."

Ginny touched her arm, drawing her brown eyes to her green ones. "Parvati, he had to be Stunned. He's was in such a rage. I don't think that he's going to be in any state to see anybody."

"But how?" Parvati turned her wet face back towards her. "We thought that . . . it's good that you're family's all right, a-and Michael's too. But Terry's . . ." she said weakly.

Ginny recounted the story for her House-mates. She felt full the weight that had been sitting in her stomach like a heavy leaden stone. It had batted around in her guts the second McGonagall entered the common room with her sombre face and she had to hold back a wave of nausea when she heard McGonagall say her father's name.

That he might've been attacked—

(_Again._)

It had been the worst feeling of déjà vu for Ginny, to sit in yet another professor's office, waiting to hear whether she still had a father.

And she did. She did and it was wonderful to find that out. But it had been at the cost of McGonagall's godson. And at the cost of Terry's family.

How? How could this evening have ended like this? She was tired; her body and mind had run through a marathon of human emotions in just a few hours. This was war, after all. That meant one life spared, but another life lost.

Her voice trailed off and she sat among the other Gryffindors, watching them as they cried and comforted each other. They stayed up through the night, talking when they needed to talk, sitting in silence when no words would come.

* * *

It was startling the way things could change in a matter of minutes. One second, she was laughing at Michael and Anthony.

(_And Terry_.)

The next second, everything was different. The world felt cold, grey, and unfriendly. Death Eaters had attacked and people had died. Loved ones close to her friends were no longer breathing. They were no longer walking or talking or writing letters to their sons.

They were just gone.

A few days following the raid, Daphne decided she needed to see Michael. She hadn't spoken to him since McGonagall's office. She didn't know how Terry was doing, as several professors had somehow managed to keep him away from classes for almost a full week. They had made sure that Snape and the Carrows couldn't get to him.

From what little she had been able to glean from Anthony, Terry was suffering in silence, but the brunt of his anger was directed, unfortunately, towards his best friend.

"So Mike's been using the Room of Requirement to give Terry some space."

"Ah. That's where he's been hiding." Daphne walked next to him, pretending to monitor Anthony's late night patrolling. "He hasn't been responding to my messages." She regarded him with a serious expression "Do you think Michael and Terry can get through this? You three're best mates."

He shook his head and pushed his glasses back up on his face with a sigh. "There's never been a time since we started here that Mike, Terry and I haven't been together. But now? Everything's out of control. And he blames Mike and his family for what happened to his."

"Merlin!" Daphne rolled her eyes upwards, staring at the ceiling. She was at a loss of what to say. "War's hell, innit?"

"You'll get no argument from me."

"Should I try to talk to Michael?"

Anthony gave her a smile, although it was tinged with sadness. "He'd like that, Daphne. Knowing Mike, he wants to seem like he's handling everything okay, but he's not. I know he blames himself because Terry's blaming him. Terry doesn't really, but it's easier for him to be angry at Mike and . . . bollocks! It's all so fucked up. Eddie and Pomfrey have tried to help, but they're not Emotional Healers. They're really not qualified to deal with the psychological stuff."

"They're all we have right now though."

"Well, Mike has you." His smiled brightened a little bit. "If you can get away from the crap you have to do here, please go see him."

And so she did. Daphne watched as the door to the Room of Requirement appeared before her. Her face fell, wondering in what state Michael would be when she saw him.

"Michael?" she asked, shutting the door behind her. "Anthony told me how to get in and — _oh_!" Daphne gaped at the Room as she set her book bag on the floor. He had managed to turn it into a smaller version of the Ravenclaw common room, circular in shape and covered in dark blue fabric. Blue and bronze hangings adorned the walls, and as she looked at the carpet, swirling galaxies resembling the patterns she had noticed in Michael's dormitory glided beneath her feet. The space was big enough for about three people.

She felt a pang in her heart as she spied Michael, his back towards the door. He was hunched over facing a fire, breathing in long sighs.

He looked so alone and sad, Daphne could feel his melancholy saturate the room.

She walked over to him, her heart breaking when she finally got a good look at him. He was staring at the fireplace, his elbows propped on his knees, his head resting in his hands. Without taking his eyes off the fireplace, he patted the spot next to him. His lower lip was pushed out and his eyes drooped downwards.

Daphne sat down. "You've redecorated in here? It's cosy."

She smiled at him, although it faltered as he continued to stare at the fire.

"Michael?"

"He hates me."

"No he doesn't." She scooted closer to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "He's probably feeling a whole mess of different things. Anger definitely. But once he gets past it—"

"What if he doesn't, Daphne?" Michael twisted his head around, looking at her with desperate, miserable eyes. "What if, from this point forward, all he sees whenever he looks at me is the reason he lost his family?" His chin shook. "Terry's been my brother for the past seven years. Him, Tony and I — we're best mates! Tony and I both should be helping him get through this, cheering him up. But I'm just making things worse."

His head fell back into his hands. Daphne sat silently, her hand patting his back, thinking of a million things she could say to try to make him feel better.

None of them felt right.

"We were supposed to stay with Tony's parents over Christmas. B-but I can't go now. Terry should go. He can't stay here. It wouldn't be healthy for him to stay here, not with those bastards at the school. He needs his family. I've got mine. They're all right. But he doesn't . . ."

Daphne let him speak uninterrupted. He was staring at the fire; she could tell he wasn't talking to her necessarily, but he needed to get things off of his chest.

"I miss him and Tony so much. He probably hates me too."

"No. Anthony told me to see you. He's worried about you, and he feels guilty that he can't be here more and keep you company. Don't think that you've lost them, Michael. Neither of them hate you. Hey." She touched his cheek with her hand. He finally looked at her. "It'll take time. It's only been a week, right?

He sat up — but just as abruptly, he fell back into the cushions of the couch. Daphne extended her arm around his shoulders and he curled his body towards her, wrapping her up in an embrace.

He laid his head next to hers, and gently kissed her neck. "How long can you stay?"

"A little while."

He nestled into her more, squeezing her tightly, but warmly. She responded by hugging him completely.

They remained together in their clinch as the fire continued to cast shadows on the wall.

"What d'you want?" She ran her fingers through his soft, shaggy hair.

"This. Just this." Michael brought his head up. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead brought his lips to hers. The kiss deepened, slowly building with intensity, until their tongues locked together in a way that went beyond mere snogging.

There was no thought behind it. It was just pure impulse.

For a split second, Daphne wanted to pause and pull away. Doing anything right now with Michael in the state that he had been in seemed wrong. It felt like she was taking advantage of him.

But at that moment, all Daphne could feel was Michael's hands tugging at her clothes, desperate to get what he wanted. It alarmed her that the more they kissed, the more anxious she became to help him; whatever would help him find solace, she would do.

If her body could make him feel better, then so be it.

They ripped their jumpers off, and continued to kiss, their heads swirling left and right, hands clinging to their shirts. Michael fumbled with the buttons on her top, practically tearing them off when he couldn't undo them because his hands shook far too much. Daphne had already finished his. She yanked it off of his slender body and pulled his undershirt free from his trousers. She began pulling it up over his head.

Michael moved from her mouth to her neck as he undid her oxford, letting it fall away from her body. He stopped kissing her skin just long enough for her to remove his shirt so she could throw it to the floor. Flushed and panting, the teenagers paused, but only for a second before smashing their faces together.

His hands were no stranger to her chest, and he grabbed her, but this time, there was an urgency and unfamiliar force to his touch. He zealously squeezed her through her bra and she yelped. He apologized, but it was muffled as his lips were still on her neck.

"S'all right. Keep going," she panted.

Michael made for the clasp of her bra. He continued to kiss her forcefully, both teenagers growing more and more frustrated at his inability to undo her bra.

Suddenly, Michael stiffened. He broke apart their kiss. They looked at each other, their sweaty foreheads pressed together.

Michael let his hands drop away from her undergarment. He sighed. "Dammit," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Um . . . s'okay." She sounded shaky and awkward. "I was fine with it."

"Bloody hell, Daphne." He pulled her shirt back up over her shoulders. "I don't want . . . our first time . . ." He huffed as he failed to find the right words to say what he needed to say. "This shouldn't be how we do it. Not because of — dammit!"

She felt herself blushing. "Y-yeah you're right. . . I, er, probably should've stopped you."

"_You _should've? I shouldn't have even started!"

She stared at him, amazed that he was covering her back up and buttoning her shirt. He reached for her jumper and gave it back to her.

(_I feel so respected._)

She giggled.

"What?" He was about to put his own jumper back on.

"I'm amazed that I actually managed to find a bloke who's just . . ."

"Just what?"

"Who's just so blasted chivalrous."

Michael stared at her for a few seconds, and promptly burst into laughter. "Chivalrous? _Me_?"

Daphne's hand flew in the air. "Raise your hand if you just said 'No' to a shag and are conscientiously making sure your girl is properly dressed?"

He chuckled. "We'll keep this to ourselves." He drew his chest up and puffed out his face. "I do have a reputation to maintain."

Daphne smacked him playfully. She gave him a thoughtful smile. "I didn't want our first time to be like that either."

He smiled back, but more contemplative than before. "You don't have to leave, right? I did like the holding stuff we were doing before."

She didn't respond. Instead, she kissed his cheek and pushed him down, so he laid lengthwise across the couch. She reclined on top of him, her head resting on his chest.

Michael hummed. "Okay, yeah. This is nice." He wrapped his arms back around her and gave her a squeeze. "This I can do all night."

"Oh, Corner," Daphne sighed. "You're such a girl." She giggled as he swatted her.

After a few minutes of peaceful quiet, she lifted her head up. "I think Terry'll come around. You two're like brothers, and he'll realize that he needs you, probably quicker than you think."

Michael stared at her, a grin spreading on his face.

"What?"

He held out his hand. "Hi, my name's Michael Corner. I wanted to meet this sparkling ray of sunshine lying on top of me. And I also wanted to ask where exactly did you stash my girlfriend? She's small, snarky, and quite the little Slytherin."

She laughed and slapped his chest. "Stop it."

"Sexy, though. And she snogs like a dream."

She shot him a glare — and a pursed lip grin.

"I think I've been a good influence on you, Daphne."

She closed her eyes and hummed in contentment as he kissed the top of her head.


	36. Chapter 35: Tiaras, Tenacity, and Terry

**Chapter 35: Tiaras, Tenacity, and Terry's Triumph**

The first of December was usually a time of joy at Hogwarts. In years' past, the prefects decorated the castle with garland and trees, singing ornaments and gnome-like cherubs.

Flitwick and McGonagall would charm suits of armour to sing Christmas carols and Transfigure torches that lit the hallways into Victorian-era street lamps. One could hear the dulcet tones of the portraits singing old Christmas songs, snow gently falling on them, giving their images a sense of peace and tranquillity.

This year, things felt different.

The twelve Christmas trees were going to be decorated, the same as before, and all the decorations in the castle would be put up as usual, but no one was in the holiday spirit.

Especially the Ravenclaws and the D.A.

Daphne was supervising the seventh year prefects as they worked on the first two trees in the Great Hall. They tried desperately to make them as festive as before. However, their hearts weren't into it, not after the term from hell.

She adopted her most stern, authoritative look and approached Anthony and Padma as they Levitated several golden globes and cherubs onto the pine. She had to make it seem that they weren't on friendly terms, but she kept her voice low and hushed as they talked about their friends, occasionally cutting in with a far louder order.

"Goldstein! Get your bloody cherub up there! _Pronto_!" Daphne jabbed her finger in the air.

"_Ouch_!" Anthony hissed and shook his finger as he held the pissed-off cherub at arm's length distance. "That little monster bit me!"

"What do you expect?" Padma asked as she floated hers to the topmost branches of the tree. The cherub blew raspberries at her as it flew upwards. "The cherubs reflect the amount of holiday spirit in the environment. And, well, it's just not all that Christmas-y this year, is it?"

Anthony gave his a deadly stare and roughly Levitated it until it was as high as Padma's. "Up you go. And no more biting!"

"Y'smell like a fart! _PHHHLBT!_" The cherub latched onto a branch and Anthony quickly flashed it the two-finger salute.

Daphne sighed as if she was deflating. "Why the hell're we even bothering with Christmas?"

He floated another ornament up the tree, his countenance morose. "Joy of the holidays, right?"

Daphne nodded as her face softened. "How's Terry doing?"

"Not good. Not good at all," he replied after a moment.

"What about him and Michael? Are they doing all right?"

"Mike's back in the dorms, but they haven't talked through things yet. And Terry's not talking to me either. I know it's been a couple of weeks now, and I don't want to pressure him. But we're his best mates, and there's no way we're letting him stay here over Christmas. He needs to be with his friends, his fam—" Anthony caught himself before he could finish the word

"Maybe Luna'll have a shot." Padma floated a couple of shiny globes upon the tree.

"You think? Oh, and before I forget — _Patil_! This tree needs more ribbon!" Daphne shouted.

Padma raised her eyebrow, shrugged, and went to gather more gold ribbon. "Luna's with him back at the tower. She's been talking to him, helping him deal with his emotions." The prefect shrugged. "She did lose her mother when she was younger. She might know what to say to help him."

"There's Hannah too," Neville had joined them, pretending to scrutinize the Christmas tree and appear as if he was only there to discuss prefect matters. "She lost her mum last year. It may help both of them to talk to each other. And I'm here if he needs it." A small smile flashed quickly across his face, but looking at him, Daphne couldn't help but feel a deep sadness, unsettled and expansive, rooted within him. She had gleaned from past conversations with Ginny that, in a way, Neville had lost his parents too, long ago when he was just a baby.

"Anything to help him," he added quietly.

Daphne nodded. "Whatever works. What about the D.A.?"

"Right now, Michael and Ginny are working with Seamus, Lavender and Hannah to figure out how to cast the Fidelius Charm," he replied, hiding his face behind some garland; he was audible enough for only their little group to hear him.

"Yeah, and we're joining them after we're done with the festivities here." Anthony added, gesturing between him and Padma and Neville.

Daphne goggled. "The Fidelius?" she asked slowly. "We're going to attempt to do a Fidelius Charm?"

"It's the strongest Concealment Charm possible, and we need something strong, right?"

"Why?"

"The Carrows have shown they're ruthless; they'll go to extremes to get whatever they want. The Cruciatus, the Imperius . . . doesn't matter. We need to do something that'll protect our identities. And we're going to make sure _The Sedition Act_ and our involvement with it stays well hidden."

She sighed. "How about our next meeting? Any more late night missions?"

Neville stared for a few moments, unable to answer her. But before he could respond, Blaise Zabini bellowed behind them.

"Greengrass! Step away from the vermin!" He beckoned Daphne with a couple of fingers. She flatly glared at him, as did the other D.A. members. She walked over to him and Theodore Nott, both giving the other Houses very distinct glares.

"'Vermin' was really necessary?"

"Not necessary. More oh, what's the word? Fun." Blaise smirked.

Daphne ignored him. "Hello, Theo. So, did you two find something? About Death Eaters and the dungeons?"

Blaise gestured at Nott to go first. "It's true. The Carrows've been enlisting Vincent, Greg, and occasionally Draco to help them remove the final charms off of the old dungeons. They're almost done."

She shut her eyes and let out a long breath. "That's not what I wanted to hear. How much longer?"

"Probably a week. Maybe a few days. They're about to crack the last layer of spells sealing them off. "

"Godric! Not good."

Theodore nodded. "And they've been giving those three some lessons too."

"Lessons? What the hell are they teaching them? And that reminds me, where is Mister Ferret Twat anyway? He's supposed to be down here helping me with this crap." She scanned the room, but couldn't find him.

"Speak of the devil." Blaise pointed right at the doorway to the Great Hall. Draco Malfoy strode in, pale and arrogant. He shot derisive glares at the seventh year prefects. Turning to his right, he acknowledged Blaise and Theodore with a grin and a nod.

However, when he spied Daphne, his face fell. His eyes lingered on her face for a few moments with an odd, inscrutable expression. Not angry, nor disgusted.

It was bizarre.

(_What the hell is he staring at?_)

She cocked her eyebrow. "What're you looking at?"

Draco responded by curling his lip into a contemptuous sneer. "Absolutely _nothing_, apparently." He snapped his head around to the front and walked towards the teachers' table to yell at the fifth year Hufflepuff prefects.

"That's right! Keep walking." She shook her head and spoke to Blaise. "What was that about?"

Blaise paused before he answered, a smile creeping across his face. "Interesting."

"Care to elaborate?"

He grinned, Cheshire Cat-like, at Daphne. "I have my suspicions, but let me do a little digging around first. I want to make sure I'm right before I give you a heart attack."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. What about the other thing?"

"Your two newest admirers in Slytherin? Baddock and Pritchard? Right. They're after you."

She glared at him. "Thank you, Captain Obvious. Like that wasn't apparent already."

"No. They _are _after you." Blaise stared at her gravely. "As in, they're being encouraged to teach you a thing or two. Well, not necessarily just you." He looked darkly at Theodore. "They seem to think that they can do whatever they want, or take whatever they want. Show everyone who's in control—"

"Who has power," she finished, beginning to feel sick. "And what exactly are they being encouraged to do?"

Blaise said nothing. He lowered his head and looked at her.

His face said everything that needed to be said.

"Fuck!" She kicked at the Slytherin table. "So on top of making nice with the sadistic bastards running the school, spying on them, and somehow making sure that students aren't getting too roughed up by them, I'm also supposed to watch out for Pervert Pritchard and Baddock the Yeti?" Daphne swore as her head fell into her hands. "Seriously, will this year just bloody _end_?"

"Are you going to tell Boyfriend about them?"

Daphne slumped at the mere thought of disclosing this to Michael. "Not yet. He's got way too much on his plate right now with Terry. I'll manage this. Just keep me posted, all right? Oh, and when you find out what crawled up Malfoy's arse and died, please inform me."

"That, Greengrass, is a conversation I can't wait to have." Blaise gave her one last smirk and departed from the Great Hall, with Theodore following closely behind.

* * *

The horrible loss suffered by Terry Boot from the death of his parents had a far deeper impact on Dumbledore's Army than any of the members had realized.

Neville had taken it upon himself to approach Terry in the library as he sat with several other Ravenclaws, including Anthony and Michael, while they studied. Ginny smiled as Neville described the conversation—

"He's so withdrawn, Ginny. He wasn't even writing anything down, just scratching at his parchment, pretending to look like he wasn't crying. I wanted to make sure Terry knew that he's not alone, you know? My parents might still be alive, but even if I hope that they do recognize me, I can't be certain of that." He licked his lips. "They may not know what's going on around them. They may have loved me a long time ago, but they may not know who I am anymore."

Ginny gave him a sympathetic smile and squeezed his hand comfortingly.

Hannah had also sought out Terry. "It'll help if he's surrounded by friends he can talk to, who have experienced similar losses. And," she looked at the others sheepishly, "it's good to get things off of my chest also."

"If something good can come out of all this death," Susan Bones added, with a sad smile, "then that's a start, right Annie?" Hannah nodded in agreement.

Although he agreed with the sentiments, Neville had a very hard time energizing himself and the rest of Dumbledore's Army to continue on with their efforts against the Carrows. There had been no other late night "missions" since the safe-house attack.

No one's heart seemed to be in it. Despite Luna's attempts to encourage them.

"Neville, I think it's important to keep going, to do whatever we can to keep spirits up here. It's up to us to make sure Harry's message doesn't die here."

"I know," he replied, picking up a discarded box of old wizard firework that spluttered and smoked uselessly. "But after what happened to Terry's family and how the Carrows and Snape keep punishing students, it doesn't feel right." He tossed the box aside.

Neville, Luna, Ginny and Daphne were in the Room of Requirement, looking for the stacks of pro-Muggle-born documents that had been taken from the library. Daphne and Ginny had decided to hide them in here, using the command — "_I need a place to hide my parchments and books._"

The Room was shockingly messy; it must have been filled with magical objects hidden by various witches and wizards throughout the centuries that Hogwarts had been open. Vast and cavernous, Daphne and Ginny had initially worried about where to hide the materials, lest they get lost among the glut of garbage. They had decided to shrink the stacks into a much smaller, more manageable pile, and conceal it in a cabinet that Daphne had used in past to hide compromising photographs of Eddie Carmichael and Blaise Zabini.

As Luna engaged Neville and Ginny in a conversation about the D.A., Daphne remained preoccupied with another piece of furniture and had her back turned away from them.

"No matter what, people are still going to get hurt." Luna slowly canted her head, keeping her protuberant eyes locked on Neville and Ginny's faces. Her earrings, resembling what Luna claimed was a Nargle's nest, dangled just above her shoulders, her blonde hair tangling in its haphazard shape.

"It doesn't matter what we do," she continued. "That's what you said, ages ago, when we took a vote as the entire D.A. to step up our efforts against the Carrows and Snape. '_We can't let them win, and that's what'll happen if we stop speaking up._' Those were your words, Neville."

Ginny smirked. "I've never heard you so emphatic, Luna."

"I simply don't like it when I think my friends are making a mistake." She continued to smile at both Ginny and Neville in her dreamy way. "The brightest beam of sunlight can break through any cloud that's filled with rain."

"That's nice. Where did you get that from?" Ginny asked.

"My mother. She was quite a witch," she replied wistfully. "She was always the optimist, always believed in silver linings. She told me that no matter how dark things seemed to get, there would always be light to somehow make things better.

Luna smiled, more broadly this time. "My father tells me I got my outlook on life from her. And that makes me happy."

Neville chuckled softly. "Maybe we need more of your spirit to rub off onto us."

A tiny yelp interrupted their conversation.

"Daphne?"

The Slytherin was still squatting in front of a cabinet, upon which sat a bust of an old warlock wearing a dingy wig.

"Daphne?" Ginny asked impatiently. She snapped her fingers, trying to get her attention.

Daphne continued to stare absent-mindedly at the cabinet, her arms inside it.

"Hello? Wakey-wakey!"

"It's still here." The Slytherin spoke very softly, not addressing her words to anyone in particular.

"What're you talking about?" Ginny waited for an answer as Neville and Luna joined them. Daphne was holding something in her hands.

"What is that, Daphne?" Luna asked.

Daphne stood up, showing her, Ginny and Neville the object she was holding. "It's just a tiara, actually. I've seen this a few times in the past, and the last time I was in here with Blaise, I touched it." She offered the diadem to the others. "It looks old. Kinda fake, to be honest. But there's something odd about it." She nudged it towards them, waiting for someone else to hold it. "Well, go on. See what I mean?"

Ginny looked at Neville and Luna, shrugged, and took it in her own hands. "Whoa!" Her eyes grew large and she looked at Daphne with surprise. "It's really bloody cold."

"I know. Like several degrees colder than this room, right?" Daphne asked.

"Yeah, and . . . and, wow!" She looked closer at the bauble. It was tarnished and dingy, but there was something that felt ancient about it. She could almost imagine that the tiara had seen so many different things in its lifetime. Oh, the stories it could tell—

And then the thing moved in her palm.

She jumped. "_Eww_!" She dropped it in her shock. Luna reached out and caught it before it could hit the floor.

"Circe's Ghost, that's weird!" Ginny tried shaking her hand to get the icky sensation off of her. "There's something living inside it, I think. It . . . it moved," she whinged.

"You felt that too?" Daphne snapped her fingers, as if she had been expecting that to happen.

"Uh-huh." Ginny wiped her hand on her jeans. "It had this weird pulse or, uh . . ."

"Heartbeat?"

"Yeah. A heartbeat. And it's so cold. _Eurgh_!" She rubbed her hands together, wiggling them rapidly to get rid of the nasty feeling the tiara had left behind.

"It did the same thing to me when I picked it up," Daphne said, nodding.

"Why would a piece of jewellery have a pulse?" Neville asked, moving closer to Luna to get a better look at the thing. "Unless it's been charmed to do something specific, inanimate objects can't move."

Daphne shrugged, at the same time Luna gasped. "Oh my goodness! I can't believe this!"

The other three turned and looked at her. "What?" they asked simultaneously.

"This is an exact replica of Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem. It actually looks like it might be that old, too. Look at the rust and the discoloration."

Luna's revelation was met with silence.

"Er, okay . . . I'll bite," Daphne said. "Luna, the lost diadem is _lost_. That's sort of the point. And hasn't it been lost for centuries? How do you know what it would look like?"

"There's a marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw in our common room wearing a tiara that looks just like this. See? Right here." She rubbed on the slender band with her thumb. Ginny could barely make out small, delicate writing, etched into the tiara in a slender cursive:

"'_Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.'"_

"One of my mother's hobbies was studying the headdresses of Rowena Ravenclaw's time. She made a diadem that looked just like this one. It was based upon the tiara that adorned the statue. After she died, my father continued making models of magical headdresses. He has this really ornate one that he's been working on for — oh my stars!"

Luna jumped, much like Ginny did when she felt the tiara's pulse. "I felt that! I felt something inside the diadem move."

"I know!" Ginny and Daphne looked at each other as they spoke at the same time.

Luna turned the diadem over and over in her hand, her expression growing increasingly troubled. "Neville's right. It shouldn't have done that. Unless there's some sort of enchantment to trap something living inside it. It's unnerving."

"And creepy." Daphne eyed the tiara suspiciously.

Neville took it from Luna and creased his brow, squinting to get a better look at the writing and the tarnished metal. "I don't know, but something about this feels really off. Should we tell someone about this?"

Daphne and Ginny looked at each other and shrugged. "Who? Flitwick?"

"He's Head of Ravenclaw House." Neville offered. "And we know we can trust him."

Luna regarded the diadem, her face growing more and more sceptical. "There's no doubting the side Flitwick's on, but—" She turned her eyes back up at to the others, flinching a bit as the tiara apparently moved again. "My instincts are telling me to keep this between ourselves."

Neville raised his eyebrow. "What about finding out what's going on inside of it?"

She shook her head. "The diadem is very old. And it looks enough like the statute's version of Ravenclaw's headpiece. Her tiara is said to impart great knowledge and wisdom upon its wearer. If there is even the slightest possibility that this is Ravenclaw's lost diadem, no one else should know it's here. I can only imagine if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or any of his followers were ever able to find it; it could be potentially devastating."

"If this _is _Ravenclaw's lost diadem. _Big _if."

"True, Daphne. But I'd rather err on the side of caution."

Neville regarded Luna's final words on the matter. Finally he nodded. "I defer to you, Luna. Daphne? Ginny?"

The two girls looked at him.

"We'll keep this between us four. That means you can't say anything to Michael."

Daphne gaped. "But . . ."

Neville's severe stare made her close her mouth.

"Fine. I'll keep this from him. Trust and honesty in relationships are _so_ overrated."

Neville looked at her flatly. "You haven't told anyone else about this? Blaise—?"

"I never mentioned it to Blaise, and I won't now. You lot're the first that've I actually shown. So, go team." She feebly held up her thumb.

Neville nodded. "All right. We'll keep our lips zipped." He nodded towards the other set of cabinets in the back of the room. "Now, shall we go check on our Muggle-born paraphernalia?"

The four students made their way over to the box filled with parchments and documents confiscated from the library, pushing the odd diadem that seemed to have a life of its own to the backs of their minds.

* * *

Despite Luna's lecture in the Room of Requirement, the D.A. remained in a state of limbo throughout the first half of December. Neville kept saying that he was waiting for Anthony and the others to figure out how to cast the Fidelius Charm. But when it was just the two of them, he confided to Ginny that he felt like he had lost his desire to lead.

"It doesn't feel right, Ginny. Not while Terry's still mourning."

Ginny wanted to argue with him, to stand up and tell him no! Luna's right. They're going to hurt us anyway, so we might as well do what the D.A. was born to do, and stand up to these bastards!

All that sounded really good in her head, but when she opened her mouth, a huge groan came out instead. "It really hurts, doesn't it?" Neville could only look at her morosely.

Luna still kept at both of them, though. She talked to them in the hallways, telling them the same things over and over again—

"But Neville, remember what you said to the others."

"_I can't_!" He exclaimed desperately. Ginny winced; she knew he really wasn't one to lose his temper about things, but Terry's loss had left him drifting in an ocean of uncertainty.

"Luna, I'm sorry for yelling at you, but I just can't." His voice was filled with sadness. "It's the wrong time to do this stuff. It's silly and childish and there's been so much pain. Everything we do seems pointless."

"But it's your words, Neville. Don't forget your words."

He couldn't respond to her, and instead turned around to walk back to Gryffindor Tower.

"How's Terry doing?" Ginny asked, watching Neville walk away.

"He's still very sad," she replied in a soft voice. "But he's starting to open up more about things. I told him how I felt when I lost my mother, how sad I was and how thinking about her made me cry after she died."

"Oh Luna. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be! It gets better with time, see? The pain fades after time has passed. Eventually, you're able to remember the good things. The loved ones we lose are never really gone far from us. I know my mother's with me, no matter where I am. I told Terry that too. Perhaps his parents and my mother have already met. Maybe they've become the best of friends."

Luna smiled in her dreamy way. "I do believe that my mother must be well wherever she is. With any luck, perhaps his mother and father have found a place where they can live forever and watch over Terry. It would be nice if they have a garden. My mother loved flowers and gardening and planting things. And maybe — just maybe — she's helping them getting their garden to grow and blossom with new life."

Ginny couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit more optimistic after Luna's speech. She wished Neville could've heard it.

Then, towards the end of the second week of December, something strange happened.

Ginny sat with Neville in the common room, trying desperately to do Transfiguration assignments. They ended up talking about the D.A. instead.

"What's wrong with us, huh?" Neville regarded his blank parchment sadly. "We went to all this trouble to re-form Dumbledore's Army, but, right now, all I can think is that this is pointless." He let his head fall onto his hands, balled up and wrapped together like one big fist. He beat his head slow and steadily.

He was clearly as frustrated as she was.

"Are we making any difference? Does it even matter?" Ginny mumbled. Neville shrugged.

"That's what I don't know."

They heard the portrait swing open, and there was an increasing roar of indistinguishable sounds. Neville stood up to check it out and Ginny stayed close behind him.

"What's going on?"

Demelza Robins ran up to him, her face alight with some happy secret. "Neville. Please tell me you saw it. That both of you saw it!" She grinned at them, but didn't elaborate

Neville and Ginny looked at each other, completely and utterly confused. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"It's great!" Cosima Ramsay ran up to them and took Ginny by her hand. "You've gotta see this."

Demelza grabbed Neville and the two older Gryffindors were dragged through the portrait door. As soon as they emerged onto the Grand Staircase, they were surrounded by a gaggle of younger students all asking about the commotion.

By the time they almost reached the fifth floor, they heard it—

"_We believe in Potter! Harry Potter!_"

Neville looked at Ginny; she stared ahead of her, not quite sure what to make of the singing.

"Somebody charmed the suits of armour all along the Defence Class corridor," Demelza said breathlessly. "You know what that is, right?"

Neville shook his head. "I've got no idea."

"_We are the Geordies . . . the Geordie Boot Boys_." Jack Sloper caught up with them. "It's a Newcastle chant. Football, you know?" He was grinning from ear to ear, and he clapped at the song. "_We are mental, we are mad . . . We're the loyalest football supporters the world's ever had!_"

He shot ahead of the pack, and as Ginny looked around, she could see students all streaming from every which direction, all converging en masse onto the third floor corridor.

Neville started yelling. "Excuse me! Pushing past. Prefect here." But he had a hold of Ginny's hand and was pulling her along with him as well. Somehow, the two Gryffindors managed to squeeze their way through the throngs and they found a small recognizable crowd enraptured by the singing.

"Who did this?" Ginny leaned towards Padma Patil. Padma was standing with Parvati Patil, who hummed and clapped after each line—

The helmets on all eight of the suits of armour were moving together in perfectly synchronized singing.

"_We believe in Potter! Harry Potter! We are right and we are mad! We're the loyalest supporters Harry Potter's ever had! Second verse! Same as the first!_"

And on and on they sang. It was brilliant. It was bold and audacious. And the other members of Dumbledore's Army had _no _idea who had done it.

"Neville? Did you—?"

He shook his head at Hannah's question. "I've got no idea. I had nothing to do with this, but I wish I had."

Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones snuck up behind them.

"I can't believe this," Susan had a broad grin on her face. "It's amazing!"

Ernie nodded vigorously. I want to take credit for it, but I can't! I've got no idea where this chant came from—"

Parvati gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth. "Football!"

"Uh . . . yeah," Ginny said. "Jack Sloper said that this was a football chant—"

"Well, who else in Dumbledore's Army's a big football fan? Hmm?"

Ginny's mouth dropped open. She was about to say his name, when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Heh. Fancy that."

Ginny turned to look at Michael Corner, a mild and casual expression on his face. He creased his eyebrows in a thoughtful manner. "Wonder whose brilliant idea _that _was, to charm all the suits of armour to sing a Muggle football chant. Newcastle, no less."

There was another sigh. Daphne Greengrass was shaking her head and holding back a smile as she looked at the suits of armour. She stood close enough to Michael to touch his arm, but she didn't in case they were being watched. "This just made my job a lot harder."

Ginny winced. "Will you be able to throw the Carrows off of this?"

Daphne nodded. "Oh, sure." She shrugged, and Ginny watched as the smile she had been fighting the whole time popped out as a little smirk. "Top of my 'To Do' List."

"Just be careful, Love."

Daphne blushed at Michael, and glared at him with an angry expression. "I've got to make it seem like you just said something I did _not _approve of, but I like that you called me that. I liked it a lot!"

Michael frowned back. "Well, I'll keep saying it over and over then. _Love_!"

Daphne drew her lips together and snorted; she was clearly trying to stop herself from laughing. Instead, she pivoted and pushed through the throng to attend to her Head Girl duties.

"You two really _are _serious, aren't you?"

Michael merely grinned and said nothing, making Ginny giggle. She turned back to the ever-tuneful suits of armour, now probably on their thirtieth verse.

"Where is he?"

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Terry_._"

"Oh!" The look of surprise at hearing Terry's name froze on Michael's face for a few moments. Then he shrugged. "Got no idea."

Ginny swatted him.

"Ow!"

"Yes you do, Michael." Her face softened. "How's he doing?"

He looked at her without saying anything. Then he coughed and nodded towards his right. Ginny looked over.

There, standing off in the distance, away from everyone else, was Terry Boot, his hand on his book bag. He remained still, his eyes remained focused on the singing suits of armour, his expression mild, but peaceful, satisfied with the decision he had made.

And next to him was Luna Lovegood, grinning as she hummed and bobbed her head to the beat of the song. She saw Ginny and smiled in her typical Luna way.

* * *

**A/N: **Daphne's line to Luna about Ravenclaw's diadem comes directly from _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_, pg. 384. And Michael Corner actually says it in the book.

This chapter was fairly heavy in references to_ Daphne Greengrass and the 6__th__ Year From Hell_. Daphne first spied the tiara in _DG6YFH _Chapter 24: The Uncaring Snake. She also blackmailed Blaise and Eddie with the knowledge of their relationship in Chapter 12: A Snake Cornered.

And I do believe, in the actual football chant, it is actually spelled "loyalest". And Ginny, Neville, Luna and Daphne finding the tiara in this room does mean that there will be a couple of changes from the events that lead up to the battle. Those change will have some effect on my third and final "From Hell" story.

If you have a few moments, I'd love to get your feedback on "Two Wrongs", a Draco/Daphne infidelity piece I wrote for a LJ challenge. It's rated M, but there are hints of Daphne/Michael in the past. Thanks!


	37. Chapter 36: Cedo Vi Superiori

**A/N: ** I own nothing. M for language, violence, and slightly vulgar humour. I swear on my mother's best spring rolls that happier times are ahead.

* * *

**Chapter 36: ** **Cedo Vi Superiori**

This was bad.

Actually, if Daphne was being completely honest with herself, this was pretty much catastrophic.

"_Damn_!" she whispered. She shook her head. Around her, she could hear students gathering at the entrance to the Great Hall, pointing, whispering and gasping at the sight before them.

It definitely wasn't that Daphne disagreed with it; in fact she knew it was true, regardless if anyone could prove it. But seeing it written out in big bold letters, her eyes and mind absorbing the full impact of the words, Daphne knew what it meant.

Perhaps the most severe punishment a student could get, something that no one had, as yet, experienced thus far.

"I'll kill them myself," Daphne said, apprehension mixing with guilt and nausea in her guts as she realized what her next duties were going to be.

At the other end of the Great Hall, opposite its large doors, a large white bed sheet hovered above the teacher's table. On it was writing: black letters, bold and flashing, the meaning clear to anyone who saw it—

"_**WE FIGHT FOR HARRY POTTER!! **_

_**WE FIGHT FOR DUMBLEDORE!! NOT HIS **__**MURDERER**__**!!**_

_**DOWN WITH SNAPE!! DOWN WITH SNAPE!!"**_

"Miss Greengrass."

Daphne snapped her head towards the voice. McGonagall stepped up to her and bent down to speak in a hushed voice. "A word, if you please."

They moved aside, allowing more and more students access to observe the audacious display.

"Miss Greengrass, I'm afraid this incident will not be easy to overlook. As were the suits of armour that were charmed yesterday."

She nodded. "I agree, Professor."

"I want you to be honest with me." The Scotswoman peered at Daphne over her spectacles. "Do you know who did this?"

"I can assure you I don't."

McGonagall took another step closer to Daphne and continued speaking in a very low voice, directly into Daphne's ear. "As extraordinary as I find the courage of those who choose to speak up, I must tell you that it falls upon us teachers to turn in the culprit or culprits to the Carrows for—" McGonagall's face twisted in palpable disgust, "for punishments."

Daphne deflated. "Yes, Professor. I'm aware of that."

She put a hand on Daphne's shoulder and eyed her carefully. "I want your assurances that you'll make every effort to find out who did this."

"Y-yes. Absolutely."

"And when you find out their identity, make sure you tell no one but me, or Professors Sprout or Flitwick." She drew herself back up. "We will do whatever we can to make sure the culprit or culprits do not meet with any excessive disciplinary measures. Do you understand?"

Daphne wanted to smile, but she didn't. She forced herself to nod slowly. "I understand perfectly."

"Very well." McGonagall gave her a nod. "Now, please attend to your Head Girl duties and make sure this throng is cleared out before the Headmaster and others arrive."

"Yes, Ma'am." Daphne bowed and pivoted sharply on her heels. She sucked in a breath and started shouting.

"All right, you lot! Head Girl here. Move out. Make way for the teachers. And stop your silly gawking!" The students gaped and glared at her, but the younger ones complied with her commands. Daphne began shepherding them into the Great Hall in fairly orderly fashion, beckoning to the other prefects as she saw them to help her out.

As the students filed into the Great Hall, several stopping to gawk at the sign, Daphne's mind ran through all the possibilities of who could've put that sign up. The most obvious was Terry. Possibly with a little help from Luna. The school had been witness to their antics with the suits of armour in the defence corridor just last night, and it seemed likely that they might have planned the sign along with the singing.

Of course, never put it past any of the Gryffindors to act stupidly bold . . . or was it boldly stupid? This might have been something cooked up by Neville and Ginny as a way of reestablishing their House as pre-eminent haven for the subtlety-impaired.

She froze. The colour drained from her face.

(_Merlin's Itchy Taint!_)

(_Fuck!_)

(_Fuck fuck FUCK!_)

The dungeons.

Daphne was fairly sure that the dungeons were now open, but no one had said a word since Blaise's last report to her at the beginning of December. The D.A. hadn't been doing too much because of what had happened to Terry. And to her knowledge, the Carrows hadn't started taking students into the dungeons. Yet.

(_This is going to change that._)

It was the only thing she could be sure of.

Daphne spun around from the stream of students walking into the Great Hall. She bit her fingernails as she slowly approached the small hallway on the right side of the great staircase—

"_Psst_! Daphne!"

She looked around. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't see where it was coming from.

"Behind you!"

She pivoted around. "Michael?'

His eyes scanned around the room. He beckoned her towards the broom closet that he was currently inside.

Daphne made sure no one suspicious was watching them; everyone was still fairly preoccupied with the sign. She entered the broom closet and shut and locked the door behind her.

"_Lumos!_" She lit up the inside of the closet and found her chest pressed against Michael's, which, of course caused him to look down at her.

And not at her eyes.

"Whoa! Tight spot."

She flashed him a saucy grin. "Corner, I hope you didn't just drag me in here for a snog?"

He tore his gaze away from her chest. "No. No, we've got some serious matters to talk about."

"Well, I hope so. Absconding Slytherins in broad daylight while the school's overrun with Death Eaters is not really exercising that brilliant Ravenclaw mind of yours. So, come on." She crossed her arms and smirked at him. "Make it worth my while."

"Are you saying snogging with me isn't worth your while?"

"Focus Corner!"

"All right, all right." He smiled and gave a small sigh of disappointment, but he complied with her command. "You saw that sign, right?"

"What? The big one hovering over the teacher's table accusing Snape of murder? Yeah, I might've caught it," she said sarcastically. "Why?"

Michael took a breath. "Do you know who did it?"

"No I don't."

"Have you spoken to McGonagall or any of the other teachers? Do they know?"

"No. Right now, everyone's guesses are as good as — wait. Do _you_?"

He said nothing, only continuing to stare at her.

"Michael, do you know something?"

Finally, he responded. "I might."

She groaned. "Please don't say it was you."

"Look, Daphne." He put his hand up to block any more slaps from her. "I'm not at liberty to say—"

"Not at _liberty_?! What the hell do you mean 'not at liberty'? You'd better 'get' some 'liberty', Michael, or so help me—"

"I can't. I can't tell you who did it, because I don't know for sure. But Tony and I have our suspicions."

"Oh, bloody hell!" Daphne stared at him, flabbergasted. "It was Terry, wasn't it? Just Terry? Or Terry and Luna?"

He shook his head. "Like I said, I don't know."

"Look, I have to find out who did it. McGonagall wants to know. McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout're going to try to go between Snape and the Carrows, and not have whoever put that sign up tortured by them." She grabbed his jumper, and pulled him towards her. "Think about this. The dungeons must be ready for students by now. If the Carrows get to Terry—"

"We don't know whether Terry did it."

"Well _whomever_!" She clung to his arms. "Michael, if the Carrows get their hands on the students who did it, they'll take them into the dungeons. They'll do things to them that'll make the Cruciatus look like nice snog on summer afternoon."

His eyes floated to the ground. Daphne could barely see his chin quivering. Michael kept biting his lips and blinking.

He was clearly nervous about something.

"Michael?"

He brought his hands to her waist and met her eyes, his face resolute. "Terry's already been through a lot. He shouldn't be tortured on top of everything else, Daphne. It sh-should be someone else, then. Someone, y'know . . . who did him wrong. Someone who might be able to do a bit of good now."

"_What _– are – you – thinking?" Her hands tightened on his jumper.

He didn't say a word, and instead drew her to him and kissed her, softly this time.

They broke apart, and before Daphne could ask him another question, Michael opened the door to the broom closet and left, walking in the direction of the Great Hall.

She hit her palm against the doorframe. "Dammit!"

(_Of all the bloody Ravenclaws, I pick the one that's most like a bloody Gryffindor._)

* * *

Snape paced in front of the hall. Every pair of eyes, teachers and students all, watched him, following every move, waiting for him to draw his wand.

The only teachers not present were the two Carrows, and Merlin knew where they were.

Ginny scanned the hall, trying to make sure each and every member of the D.A. was accounted for. They were, except at the Ravenclaw table. Two wizards were shifting around nervously, desperately looking for the third member of their trio.

"Where's Terry?" Parvati leaned over and whispered to Ginny.

She shrugged. "I've got no idea—"

"_SILENCE_!" Snape roared. He shot a furious glare at the Gryffindor table.

And then he smirked.

"It should come as no surprise that the old dungeons, once used ages past for punishments against troublemakers within the student body, have now – _been – reopened_!"

Not a soul dared to make a sound.

"The Carrows have taken great pains to remove the enchantments that had sealed them up for far too long." His smirk grew into a malicious grin. "Today, I am pleased to inform all of you that the transgressor _or_ transgressors who dared to disrespect me and the school with these foul accusations and this horrible sign," he drawled, gesturing to the sheet still hanging above the teacher's table, "shall be the first to _enjoy_ all the comforts that the dungeons afford."

He took two long strides—

"Shackles."

He walked further down, keeping a steady gait.

"Whips."

He continued his pace.

"Hot irons. Stretching racks. Good enough "to _pull apart, _to _stretch . . ._ all these smaller ones." He sneered at several first year Hufflepuffs.

"And three disciplinarians who have _no qualms — NO QUALMS WHATSOEVER! — _with making you experience first hand what pain feels like." He stopped walking and smiled coldly at the students.

"I assure you, this will hurt _you_ far worse than it hurts me."

"Stop this, Severus!"

McGonagall flew from the teachers' table towards the Headmaster, her face alight with fury and desperation. "You're scaring these children, Sev- . . . Headmaster! They are only children. They are innocent!"

"_INNOCENT_? Do you think I am an idiot?" Snape thrust his face at her; Ginny thought for a few moments he would bite her nose off, so close was he to the Transfiguration professor. "They are disrespectful heathens! They break rules and they do not expect to be punished. As their Headmaster, it falls upon me to ensure that they are taught their lessons so they can grow and be responsible members of our society. Don't you agree, Minerva?"

"Don't call me—"

"_I'll – call – you – anything – I – damn – well – like_!" Snape interjected rapidly. "I am Headmaster here! And if you keep talking, I shall strike you down in front of all the students. Do you want them to watch you fall?"

"Then do it. Torture me if you must, but spare them."

The entire Gryffindor table roared in protest. Neville nearly jumped out of his seat and ran over to get between the professor and the Headmaster. There was a commotion at the teachers' table as Hagrid bellowed loudly.

"Don' you hurt one hair on her head, Snape!"

Other teachers begged with McGonagall to come back and admonished Snape.

McGonagall held her hand up.

"Don't even think about it! Any of you." She shot the entire Gryffindor House a look that said they would live to regret it if they didn't obey her at that very moment. She turned and nodded at the teachers. Finally, she returned to Snape. "What are you waiting for, Severus? Do it."

His horrible, soulless grin reappeared. "You tempt me far too much, Minerva."

"Do it now, and leave the children alone."

He aimed his wand at her, his grin widening even more. "I've been waiting for this for a very long time."

McGonagall shut her eyes. Gryffindor House held their breaths.

Snape opened his mouth—

"_HEADMASTER_!"

Snape pivoted around as Amycus Carrow entered, magically dragging someone behind him. "We got him! We got the bastard who made that sign and who charmed the suits of armour last night." Carrow flicked his wand in front of him, and the entire Great Hall gasped as a beaten figure slid across the stone floor.

"Terry? _Terry_!" Michael and Anthony shouted as the same time. They tried running over to their mate, but Carrow pointed his wand at the pair of them.

"Come any closer, and I'll curse him until he loses his mind."

The two wizards froze right where they were, but the looks they aimed at Carrow could've struck the Death Eater dead.

Terry struggled with sitting up. His face was bloody; his nose looked like it was broken and had been bleeding down his face. Two shiners were growing on his face, and his clothes were torn in several places. He finally managed to raise his head.

"Y-yeah . . . I did it. The sign. The song last night." He panted. "Those were all me." Shakily, Terry managed to smile in defiance.

"Well? G-go on!" Terry shouted. "Give me your best shot!"

"Mister Boot," Snape lowered his wand; McGonagall stared at the Ravenclaw with shock. "You are willing to accept _sole_ responsibility?" The Headmaster waited for an answer.

Terry nodded, still breathing heavily. He wiped the blood away from his face. "Yeah. All of it." He looked around, meeting the eyes of the other members of the D.A. "I snapped." He watched Snape with hungry, bloodthirsty eyes, ones that revealed nothing other than pure hatred and a loss of any self-control.

Ginny was petrified as she watched the entire scene unfold before her. The Gryffindors clung to the table and grasped at each other, as if trying to hold back from running out and stopping the madness themselves. Neville was livid; if Parvati, Seamus and Lavender weren't holding him back, he would've gone for it.

Snape walked towards Terry. The Ravenclaw kept his eyes on him.

And as fast as a Snitch, Snape slapped his already bruised face.

"Headmaster!" McGonagall exclaimed.

He ignored her and turned to Carrow. "Whip him! Twenty lashes for last night's display with the suits of armour." He turned around and looked at the large, flashing sign above his chair at the teachers' table. "And _five_ for that abomination up there."

He nodded at Carrow, who gave him a small bow, and walked out of the Hall.

Pointing his wand at Terry, Amycus Carrow Conjured a pair of shackles that clamped onto the Ravenclaw's ankles and wrists and hauled him out of the Hall, straight towards the dungeons.

* * *

They thought the worst part of the day was watching helplessly as Terry Boot confessed. But they were wrong.

The worst part came after classes and dinner.

Dumbledore's Army had convened for the first time since the middle of November in the Room of Requirement. They sat together as a group as Terry became the unfortunate soul to christen the dungeons.

"I tried to find the cell they were keeping him in, but they've put up charms to disguise them. They all looked empty." Daphne mumbled despondently.

"I'd think, after all the trouble the Carrows went through to remove the spells that had sealed them up, they'd make sure to hide the cells once they were put back to use," Blaise Zabini said with a shrug.

Michael and Anthony were horribly shaken at the turn of events.

"It should've been us," Michael said weakly, his eyes staring at nothing.

"Why? Why do something so bloody blatant?" Anthony asked. He sat next to Michael, his eyes shut; he refused to look at anything or anyone. He beat his head against the stone wall in a steady, rhythmic fashion.

To Ginny's right, there was a sniffle. "I should've stood up in the hall, too. Terry shouldn't be taking all of the blame. I did help him with the song last night."

"No Luna. You've already taken your turn. You've done so much for him." Anthony stared at her with his most grave expression. "If anyone should've taken the blame, it should've been us, but we were too bloody cowardly—"

"Oh, stuff it!"

Blaise shook his head in disgust at the others. "This was Boot's decision. End of story. He made his bed, and he chose to lie in it, and all of you are trying to better each other with, 'Oh, but I'm so noble! It should've been _me _instead of _him'_!"

His mocking tone enraged the others. Michael and Anthony, in particular, looked like they were about to rip his head off.

Daphne tried to cut him off. "Blaise! Of all the times to go off in a rant, this isn't one of them."

"Why not?" Blaise watched the entire room, which was staring at him with daggers in their eyes. "I stand by what I said. Look, I'm sure Boot had his own selfless and noble reasons for doing what he did, but at the end of the day, it was his show. His work. And his choice to take the punishment." He straightened himself back up, his tone milder than before. "I don't like whinging for the sake of whinging. I don't like this whole one-upmanship to prove some loyalty to the idiot, acting like he's some delicate flower that needs protection. Newsflash — _he doesn't_!"

"You should really consider shutting your fat, ignorant mouth, Zabini." Michael was standing up and eyeing Blaise like he was about to sock him in his handsome face.

But Blaise didn't back down. "There are times when you have to let things play out, Corner. Let everything happen as it's meant to. There's a reason for it. And bloody grow a pair and start learning to play with the adults!"

"_SONOROUS!_"

Amycus Carrow's voice resonated against the cold, hard walls of the room. Everyone stilled, their eyes shooting up at the ceiling where the voice apparently originated.

"_STATE YOUR NAME_!"

There was a pause, and then the audible sound of dried lips smacking together. "_Terrance . . . Callum . . . Boot_."

"_WHY ARE YOU HERE?_"

"_B-because I . . . I told the truth about Snape and Dumbled—_"

There was a loud _SMACK! _The entire room jumped at the sound of the impact.

"_WHAT WAS THAT, BOY?!_"

Terry gasped. "_I'm here b-because I . . . did not follow rules._"

"_AND YOU PROMOTE AN ENVIRONMENT IN WHICH CHAOS WOULD THRIVE!_"

"What the hell's Carrow playing at?" Anthony asked, gaping at the ceiling.

Michael grasped his head. "He's not—? Fucking hell, he's going to broadcast Terry's punishment over the entire castle."

There were several sobs in the room. Parvati stuffed her fist into her mouth, trying to silence her crying. Even Blaise Zabini watched with his eyes turned upwards, staring at the ceiling in horror.

"_AND WHAT, BOY, IS YOUR PUNISHMENT?_"

"_Twenty-five lashes._"

"_WHAT DO YOU CALL ME?_"

Terry paused, and the others could hear him swallow. "_Sir_!"

"_GOOD! NOW — COUNT_!!"

There was a sound like a sharp intake of breath, and then—

A loud _CRACK_!

The unmistakable sound of whip hitting flesh.

And a howl of pain.

Terry sucked in a breath. "_One . . . S-Sir._"

Another crack. Another scream. "_T-two, s-sir._" Terry's voice cracked.

And there was a cackle.

"Fucking sadist!" Michael shouted. He hit the wall with his fists in a futile gesture. "_YOU SADISTIC BASTARD! LET HIM GO!_"

The next cracks of the whip were the same. Carrow striking him, and Terry counting, finishing each number with a hissing, broken "sir". The D.A. flinched every time the whip snapped on Terry's body.

"Terry's always been impulsive; he acts before he thinks. But h-he can't have known this w-was . . . was going to be his punishment." Anthony inhaled deeply, recoiling as the whip came down again. He crumpled, his head falling against the wall, as Terry's cry cut through the air. The group watched Anthony quietly as his shoulders shook.

Michael stared up at the ceiling, his whole body shaking from anger and grief. "People don't realize just how smart he really is. Terry m-might act like a clown." Michael shook as Terry screamed again. "H-he's always joking about c-copying off of Tony. Truth is, he never needs to."

"He always pretends to look off of our work," Anthony said softly. "But whenever I look at his parchment, he's somehow managed to write down the right answers. With-without any h-help."

"And h-he's good about knowing people. He just cares, y'know? Knows just what someone needs."

"And he needed to do this?" Parvati asked with a desperate, wet voice. "Why, though?"

"_YEEEARGH!_" Terry yelled."_FUCK!_"

The room fell silent.

Another crack.

Another scream, except this time—

"_AAARGH! THAT . . . TICK- . . . LES!_"

Every pair of eyes flew upwards. Michael started shaking. "What the hell. . . ?"

Anthony braced himself against the wall, smiling warily at first. A couple of disbelieving chuckles escaped from him and Anthony slapped his hand over his mouth. "Terry . . . wha-what's he doing?"

The whip cracked again.

Terry hissed loudly. "_GAAARGH! Y' . . . SHOULD BUY A BLOKE . . . DINNER . . . F-FIRST! S-SIR!_"

Michael and Anthony both chortled this time. "I can't believe it." Michael said, aiming his voice to the ceiling, grinning as wide as he could. "You tell 'em, Terry!" They pumped their fists in the air.

Padma gasped. "What does he think he's doing?" she asked in a horrified voice.

"He's being Terry, Paddy!" Michael ran over to her and shook her. "_Come_ _on_, Boot! Tell 'em!"

Another sound of the whip cracking on Terry's back.

"_D' . . . YA . . . WHIP . . . YER . . . MOTHER – AAARGH-GEARGH! W-WITH THAT ARM? SIR!_"

"_QUIET BOY!_" and there was a smack that cracked through the air. "_YOU KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!_"

Terry responded, but in Latin this time.

"_NIH- . . . NIHIL UMQUAM F-FACTUM ERIT QUOD . . . BA-BABOON DOMINUS EST! SIR!_"

Michael and Anthony chortled. As did Padma. Luna grinned even wider. "Slashkilters would've been better, but I definitely agree!"

"What was that?" Parvati asked, wiping at her face. "All I caught 'baboon'."

"'Nothing will ever get done with a baboon in charge! Sir!'" Michael responded, shaking his head and smiling.

"Terry loves languages!" Anthony smacked Michael on the shoulders. "Actually, he loves _swearing_ in other languages."

"He really loves Latin. Thinks it makes him sound all intelligent when he uses Latin or French on witches! And he likes being vulgar with it, because few know what he's saying." Michael was jumping up and down, and he cupped his mouth with his hands. "We're here with ya, mate! Keep going—"

There was a series of loud and fast snaps. And screaming.

The entire room went quiet, their faces draining of colour . . .

Waiting.

"_SPEAK IN FUCKING ENGLISH, YOU MIXED-BLOOD SHIT!_"

"Come on Terry! Don't let him get to you!" Michael and Anthony were yelling out to him, their arms around their shoulders.

"_COLEOS . . . BESTIAE . . . MINISCULAE . . . HABES!_"

"_Hah_!" The Ravenclaws all hollered in exultation. They turned to the others to translate.

"'You have the balls of a much smaller creature!'" Anthony explained. The room erupted in laughter.

"_I FUCKING SAID TO SPEAK ENGLISH, YOU DISGUSTING, FUCKING SHIT!" _Carrow's voice bellowed in the air. He whipped Terry four more times, and they could hear intakes of breath and moaning as Terry absorbed each one.

"_DID I WHIP IT OUT OF YOU, YOU LITTLE FUCK? YOU DEVIANT SLIME?" _Carrow's voice was cruel, inhuman. "_YOU WILL BE BROKEN. YOU WILL LEARN TO OBEY AND TO FOLLOW US!"_

Michael was trembling, but his eyes stayed focused on the ceiling, waiting to hear his friend's voice. Anthony stood as still as a statute, Padma on his right, Luna on his left. The entire room gravitated towards them.

"Please be all right . . . please be all right . . . please, just say something, Terry." Parvati shut her eyes and folded her hands together.

There was a breath—

"_C-CEDO . . . VI SUPERIORI_!"

The Ravenclaws let out an awed gasp.

"I yield—"

"—To a greater person." Michael finished Anthony's statement.

The room had been holding their breaths; they exhaled in unison, all of them looking up in quiet admiration.

* * *

Terry's punishment lasted one hour. As soon as they had heard Carrow cut him down and his body fall to the floor, the Ravenclaws bolted towards the West Tower to be there when Terry arrived.

The rest of the D.A. went back to their respective houses. They said nothing to the students that lingered downstairs, even though they wanted to talk about what their ears had just witnessed—

"Neville! Parvati! Did you guys hear that?"

"What's going on? With Boot?"

"He's . . . he's still alive, right?"

"Neville, did you guys know he was going to turn himself in?"

He could only shake her head. "Look, Cosima, Demelza, All of you. We haven't heard how Terry's doing. The prefects," he nodded at a red-eyed Parvati Patil, who returned the gesture, "will get some answers as soon as possible."

"Neville!"

He turned around as Jack Sloper stepped forward. "If you see him or his friends," he looked at the other Gryffindors behind him, "tell him that he was great, today."

The next morning, the Gryffindors made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast in the same pattern as they always did these days; Neville at the front, Parvati in the rear, and the other prefects and older students, seventh year to fifth, capping the rows, making sure to keep the younger students inside the formation.

This particular arrangement was unique to the Gryffindors. The Hufflepuffs had decided that the older ones, Zacharias Smith included, would surround the younger, and the third through fifth years would pair up with the first and second years within the circle.

Ravenclaw had opted for lines, each set of prefects at the head and end of each row, but with Luna, Michael and Terry usually leading as well. Some of the Ravenclaws, fifth year and below, strayed from the crowd, but it was easy to divine why; they fell right in lockstep with several groups of Slytherins, as did a smaller number of younger Hufflepuffs, ones that Ernie, Hannah and Susan had all identified as students who were seeking some degree of protection or power behind the one House that could roam the halls without fear of attack.

Ginny nudged both Parvati and Neville. "Look."

The Ravenclaws were coming in first in front of the Gryffindors. Ginny could see Anthony helping a limping, bruised and battered Terry Boot, making sure he could walk.

"Parvati," Ginny shook her friend, "Terry's okay." She smiled at the seventh year prefect, who let out a relieved breath—

"What, in the name of Salazar Slytherin, do you think you're doing?!"

Everyone stopped walking as they watched Amycus Carrow shove Anthony away from Terry. "He's suffering because of his _punishment_! He does _not_ – _need – help!_" the Death Eater roared.

Anthony, now joined by Michael, stood and eyed Carrow with unprecedented venom.

Shaking his head, Terry pushed off of his friend. He limped, grunted, and groaned with exertion. The groups of students backed away from the doors leading to the Great Hall.

Terry dragged his whipped body up to the large wood and metal doors and thrust his shoulder against the crack, but it was obvious it hurt him far too much to put any pressure on his wounds. Neville Longbottom girded himself and walked towards the doors, as did Ernie, Seamus, Michael and Anthony. All the wizards pushed on the doors, opening them up. They got them open just enough to allow Terry passage.

He turned and looked at each one of them. He smiled and locked eyes with Neville, who gave him a grin and a nod.

"Thanks."

With that, Terry hauled his body slowly into the Great Hall, entering the room before anyone else. He took a seat at the Ravenclaw table, allowing himself to only sweat, but just a little bit, from the pain.

* * *

**A/N: **The literal translation of "_Nihil umquam factum erit quod baboon dominus est_!" is "Nothing will ever get done because a baboon is master!" Thank you so much to stella8h8chang for the awesome help with Latin.


	38. Chapter 37: Fidelius

**A/N: ** A hearty round of "Merci beaucoup!" to respitechristopher for looking this chapter over and offering his reassurances and suggestions. I followed them, and I do think this version's better than the one you would've gotten. Although I'm expecting some strong opinions about this first part.

I had this chapter plotted out some time before I heard about the wonderful tale authored by one of my favorites, Thanfiction: _Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness_. Going back and looking at a couple of the details that he had plotted out in his version of the Fidelius Charm, I realize some of my spell ended up having some similarities to his, although this was entirely unintentional. I had striven to make it seem as original as I could, but alas! I've spoken with him about it, and he's fine so long as I don't lift entire passages from his work, which I would never, ever do! But definitely go and check out his work. He's brilliant!

Alas, Harry Potter and these characters are not mine, no matter how much I want my own Michael, Terry or Anthony.

* * *

**Chapter 37: Fidelius**

It was the last full week of the term.

Amid the increasing violence the Carrows were wrecking within the school, the only thing the students could talk about were their plans for Christmas holiday.

Ginny and Daphne were downplaying theirs, not wanting to put a spotlight on Daphne's relationship with the Weasleys. Usually, the Slytherin would defer saying anything specific, but when pressed, she would simply state, "Probably spend it with Blaise." She knew Blaise would confirm it without even needing to ask him. Recently, he had been telling others that he was "studying" with her whenever he'd be out late at night.

Or whenever he didn't come back to the dormitory at all.

"So, my One True Beard, is Boyfriend okay that you're 'seeing' me on the side?" He crooked his fingers, mimicking quotation marks.

Daphne glared at him as she took the cup of hot chocolate from Eddie Carmichael. Her arm reached out to shut the door behind him since his hands were full. "_Boyfriend_ has a name. Michael. And he doesn't know." She dropped her voice as she brought the mug to her lips.

They were sitting in Eddie's room, a tiny annex off of the Hospital Wing. It was rather small for one and it practically burst apart at the seams to contain all three individuals. Daphne sat on the end of Eddie's bed closest to the door, while the two lovebirds leaned against Eddie's pillows at the head of the bed.

"Michael doesn't know that you're Blaise's alibi?" Eddie asked dubiously. "That's something he might want to be made aware of."

Daphne shrugged. "Why? He knows Blaise's gay, and if it's brought up to him, he'll know the truth like that!" She snapped her fingers.

"Mm-hm. And did you tell him about your secret admirer?"

She creased her brow, confused. "What secret admirer?"

"Oh, right!" Blaise gave her an exaggerated expression of surprise. "Don't tell me I didn't tell you." He lifted his eyebrow at her and bit his lip, trying to hold back a horribly cocky smile.

"Just spit it out, Zabini."

He hummed, his lips pressed together in a smug grin. "I know someone who's become quite the smitten kitten over _you,_ Miss Greengrass."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "In English!"

"Mind you, this was in the course of my investigation about Baddock and Pritchard. I had the pleasure of sharing a bottle of MacGillicuddy's with my dorm-mates a few nights ago. And I found out some very interesting information."

"_Like_?"

Blaise held up a finger, and reached across Eddie, to the nightstand for a small flask that he had brought with him. He screwed off the cap and Daphne's eyes widened as a small burst of flame shot out of it. Blaise blew on it, leaving a puff of smoke coming from the container.

"That's how you know the firewhiskey's just right." He poured a couple of shots into Daphne's chocolate.

"Blaise, you want to take it easy there," Eddie warned him. "I'm not going to be responsible for cleaning up if that stuff hits either of you wrong."

He tapped his wand on the surface of the drink, stirring it for her. "She's going to need some heavy-hitting drink after I'm done with her."

"Blaise, for the love of Merlin! Who is it_?_"

He licked his lips and sealed the flask back up. "I managed to knock everyone out with a nice little sleeping draught and I stayed up all night long listening to the dulcet tones of your potential sweetheart. Now," he said with a devilish glint in his eyes, "take a drink."

She glared at him, but brought the cup up to her mouth.

"Go on. Be a good _wittle_ snake and _dwink_ for your Blaisey-poo." He winked at her.

It was all she could do to not throw her mug at his head. She took a large gulp, tasting the firewhiskey as it mixed decadently with the chocolate—

"It's Draco."

She spat the cocoa out violently all over Blaise and Eddie. They held up their hands in a feeble attempt to shield the onslaught, but they managed to get drenched. Daphne would've been elated at having gotten both wizards so thoroughly . . . if she wasn't in complete shock at the revelation.

"D-Dr- . . . _Draco_?" she asked, spluttering.

Blaise nodded. Eddie unsuccessfully suppressed his laughter as he used his wand to Scourgify the drink off of both of them.

"Draco? As in Draco _Malfoy_?!"

He flashed her his biggest shit-eating grin and raised his mug. "Cheers."

"Blaise, that can't be! He hates me. He threatened me after that prefect's meeting with Baddock and Pritchard!"

He cupped his hands around his mouth. "He was _warning _you, idiot! Yeah, it was in his odd Malfoyish way, but it was a warning."

"That doesn't prove anything! We've hated each other since first year. Why now? Why in the world would he be the least bit concerned about what I do? Especially since we're both on opposite sides."

Eddie looked at Blaise and then at Daphne. "Maybe one day he woke up and saw you in a whole new light?" Eddie paused and then promptly dissolved into a fit of laughter. He and Blaise slapped each other's hands.

"Her luminously greasy hair!"

"Not to mention her little dark eyes. Twinkling like tiny black diamonds!"

Blaise smirked at Eddie. "I knew there was a reason we stay together." Eddie responded with a quick kiss on his lips.

Daphne was not amused. "This isn't funny! This is really, _really _awful."

"Nah. This is hysterical." Blaise said, nudging Eddie in the arms. The couple watched Daphne flail and gasp, trying to make sense of Draco's bizarre attraction to her.

"I don't get this. Why? Why now?"

Blaise finally composed himself. "Well, when I pressed him a little further, I got the impression that he's not happy."

"With what?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Life? The universe? Everything? Maybe being a Death Eater isn't all fun and games."

Daphne snorted. "Really? A little torture and murder tends to put a damper on one's day? I couldn't have guessed."

"Maybe he likes you because you _are _closely aligned with the other side, with Harry, Hermione and Ron," Eddie offered. "Even if you don't talk about it, he still thinks you have a relationship with them. Maybe it's some sort of flirtation with the good guys."

She stared at him. "You mean, he thinks that liking me somehow makes him good?"

Eddie nodded.

"Don't girls dream about this opportunity? A chance to convert the 'dark wizard of their dreams'? Make him their one and only Chosen One?"

"_Eurgh_!" Daphne made a gagging motion and glared at Blaise. "Not all of us dream about this. And we definitely don't dream about The Chosen Ferret!"

"Well, what I do know is that Malfoy's disgusted with himself. It took some persuasion — and a rather copious amount of beverage — to get to the bottom of what he's feeling."

"But why did he tell you? Doesn't he think we're together?"

Blaise scrunched up the right side of his face. "He may, or may not, have been led to believe that we're just shagging. And not much else."

"Fantastic." Apparently, the Slytherin boys currently thought that she and Blaise had nothing but a sexual relationship, making her a sex-loving slag—

(_Again!_)

And now, the blond rat was pining away for her.

Daphne shook her head. "He's not happy," she repeated. "Not surprising,"

"And whatever pull you might have on him disgusts him too."

"Well, he's not the only one." She shivered, taking another gulp of her alcohol-laced beverage. "Aren't we forgetting Pansy? What about her and Draco?"

"He hasn't been with Pansy since last year, since all that crap happened with Dumbledore. And he hasn't pursued anything with Pansy recently because he's been fixated on you since the second week of term."

Her mouth dropped open. "What the hell did I do at the beginning of term to get him all hot and bothered?"

"It was seeing you react when Carrow tortured Longbottom."

Daphne was about to speak but she stopped herself when she realized what he had just said. "Oh."

"Yes."

"Did he say why?"

"Not specifically, but he mentioned watching you cry for Longbottom when he collapsed, watching you defend him and asking to take him to Pomfrey." Blaise peered at her. "He kept talking about it like he was disgusted. Once everyone had gone bye-bye, and once I plied him with enough firewhiskey to kill a stoat, he said—"

Blaise took a swig of his chocolate.

"Said_ what_?"

"That he hadn't been able to get you out of his mind since then. He didn't know why he couldn't stop thinking about you, but he tried. He reckoned you were a good person. He thought perhaps 'good' was in short supply these days in his life. Draco did look really pathetic whenever he said it too."

"Is that supposed to excuse all the bad shit he's done? He tried to kill Dumbledore. He has _The Mark_! Am I supposed to like him because he had a brief moment of clarity whilst drunk as a skunk?"

Blaise shook his head. "I don't know what you choose to do with the information, nor do I care. But you asked, and I bestowed."

Daphne stared at him annoyed but quiet. She had forgotten about that day in Dark Arts. Not that Carrow had tortured Neville, but that she had fallen apart as she had witnessed it.

(_And Malfoy fixated on me because of that?_)

She cringed. The idea that Draco Malfoy was attracted to her because he thought she was good, and because the things he did as a little Death Eater-in-training made him feel bad, felt unhealthy. Odd. It was like she was some sort of thing to Draco — not quite a person, but a concept. Something that a part of him wanted because she wasn't in his world, she wasn't a Death Eater, and she wasn't one of the pure-blood true believers.

There must have been some part of Draco Malfoy that hadn't been totally taken over by You-Know-Who's army from hell. And that was good to know. But despite whatever redemptive bits and pieces might be floating around Malfoy's soul, the thought that he had feelings for her, for any reason, was just—

"Way too gross!" She shuddered and reached for the flask. Another flame shot out of the lip.

"Hey! Watch how much you drink of that." Blaise glared at her as she downed a large gulp of his firewhiskey. She wiped the back of her mouth, and handed it back to him.

"I don't think you brought nearly enough." Her shoulders sagged as she mulled over how to exterminate her little rodent problem as soon as possible.

* * *

Dumbledore's Army met in the Room of Requirement the next evening. Terry was the only member not present.

"All right. The Fidelius. We've figured out how to do the charm, but we need to make a decision," Neville declared; Ginny couldn't help but notice how fatigued he looked. He had been spending the last week preparing to cast the charm, memorizing the wand movements, the order of the incantation, which was in multiple parts.

Neville had insisted that it was important for _him_ to cast it, despite getting offers of help from the Ravenclaws.

"Ginny, I've not been much of a leader the last few weeks—"

"Well, a lot's happened."

He had shaken his head. "Regardless. I need to do this, and get it right. I'm in Advanced Charms, so I should be able to do it. But I need to show everyone I'm capable of casting this spell."

Ginny had said nothing; in her mind, the others thought Neville a good wizard and leader. They seemed to automatically defer to him. Starting the D.A. had been his idea after all. She had seen him working harder than ever before in his classes. She had suspected that it was more for himself that he needed to prove he could cast something as big as the Fidelius.

Now that time had come. She joined the rest of the D.A., nodding at Neville in agreement.

"I think we need to do it in twice," he continued. "Have one Secret-Keeper for the D.A., and one for _The Sedition Act_."

"They still have no clue that Daphne's the one who's been writing them," Luna Lovegood chirped brightly. "I did receive word from my father." She handed the letter to Ginny and Neville, whose eyes flew over it. "The Ministry's shut down _The Quibbler_."

Ginny gave Luna an odd look. "Um, Luna, all this letter states is that a Nargle infiltration and their mating season have shut down his office. How do you know it's the Ministry?"

The Ravenclaw beamed. "Simple really! My father's an expert on Nargle mating habits. They start mating in December. However, they're very scarce during that period, being notoriously shy when they copulate."

The room alighted with snickers.

"What? That's not the type of thing we would do in public, so why should a Nargle? Well," she pondered, "most of us wouldn't. But I digress. My father was speaking in code. And since I know he knows the breeding and mating behaviours of the Nargle like the back of his hand, he was telling me that he was _forced_ to shut down his office. And that can mean only one thing."

"The Ministry got to him."

"They did indeed, Daphne. But they haven't been able to figure out who's been providing the sources for some of his articles." She beamed at the Slytherin, who sighed in relief.

"All right then. Two Secret-Keepers. Two Fidelius Charms. Any problems?" Neville asked. When no one disagreed, he turned his attention to Ernie, Susan and Hannah and then to Luna, Padma, Michael and Anthony. "I think the Secret-Keeper should be a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw," he said after a few moments. "Gryffindors are out of the running. Carrows and Snape have been fixated on us since the beginning of term."

He looked at Daphne and Blaise. "And although I do trust the both of you, Slytherin is too close to the Carrows and Snape. If someone even remotely suspects either of you—"

"It could be potentially devastating." Blaise drawled.

"Pretty much." Neville responded with a nod.

"So, it's either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw." Ginny finished. "Maybe we should reconsider Ravenclaw, after the stunt Terry pulled with that banner in the Great Hall."

"Don't forget that Luna's dad runs _The Quibbler_." Anthony piped up.

Neville looked among the members of both Houses. He shut his eyes, as if making a decision.

"Can I suggest someone?"

Neville looked at Hannah Abbott. "Go ahead."

"If you're going to go with any Hufflepuff, it should be Susan."

"What?" Susan looked at her incredulously.

"Look. You've got the most unassuming, calm demeanour of all of us—"

"So I'm boring?"

"No!" Hannah sounded horrified. "You're like a sister to me, but I've seen you when you're under pressure in classes, or when we're duelling. You keep your cool and you remain steady, calm, and collected." Hannah smiled at Neville. "She's it."

"Hear, hear! I couldn't agree more."

Susan gasped. "Ernie? _Really_?"

He smiled at her. "You keep acting surprised that we're mentioning you for this, and it's not really proving our point about you." She glared at him, but he kept going. "Susan should be the Secret-Keeper. She won't get frazzled . . . well," Ernie said, rolling his eyes. "This is the most frazzled I've seen her."

She swatted him.

"Susan," Neville said. "Do you understand what's being asked of you? You are being entrusted to Keep the identities of Dumbledore's Army magically charmed inside of you. Once we complete the spell, we won't be able to utter a word about who is in the D.A. or where the D.A. meets. For the rest of us, the Fidelius Charm overrules all other truth spells or serums. Even the Imperius Curse."

Susan stared at Neville, her eyes wide. But she nodded.

"The only way to break the spell is if _you_ choose to reveal or your forced to reveal the information yourself." Neville said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Barring that, you shall remain Secret-Keeper—"

"Until I die, right?"

"Yeah. Do you agree?"

Susan looked him squarely in the eyes. "Yes. I'll do this."

Neville readied his wand. "I'm going to say the incantation. The first part creates the Fidelius Orb. The secret will be magically contained inside of it. The second part is the magical contract that you make to be the Secret-Keeper. Then, I'll aim the orb directly into the centre of your body and if all goes well, you'll be surrounded by a pure, white light which means the charm should have taken effect."

"You've never done this before, though. Have you?"

He winced. "Well, I've never needed to before. The Fidelius Charm is a complex spell. The good news is that it won't hurt you if we mess it up; we'll just have to try again. And we'll be able to test it right away after we've cast the spell."

"All right." She sucked in a breath. "I'm ready when you are."

Neville aimed his wand at her. "Stay perfectly still until each part has been cast."

"No worries there."

Neville flashed her a smile and began by swirling her wand in the shape of a circle. He kept the motion going and chanted the first part of the incantation.

"_Fidelius Sona Specialis!_"

A bright line shone in the air between Susan and Neville, creating the outline of a circle no more than twelve centimetres in diameter. The light in the room dimmed; the main illumination came from the enchanted circle, the air between them warming up and crackling with magic. Neville continued with the incantation as Susan's eyes grew wider and wider.

"_Dumbledore's Army consists of Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Parvati Patil, Padma Patil, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Ernie Macmillan, Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini. We meet in the Room of Requirement, also known as the Come-and-Go Room. Dobby the House-Elf and Kreacher the House-Elf are allies of Dumbledore's Army, and Professors Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, and Rubeus Hagrid are the teachers that assist Dumbledore's Army and sympathize with our cause."_

The students in the room watched as the circle grew more and more corporeal with each word that Neville chanted. By the time he reached the end, the sphere was pulsing, glowing like a large pearl, incandescent in the low light of the room.

"_Fidelius Servo Specialis Susan Bones_—"

The same bright light that pulsed from the Fidelius Orb expanded and engulfed Susan.

"_Susan Bones, you must agree to be the Secret-Keeper of Dumbledore's Army. Inside of you shall be the identities of Dumbledore's Army and its friends and the location where Dumbledore's Army meets. Inside of you, these secrets shall remain. Should you choose to reveal the identities, the Fidelius Charm shall be lifted and Dumbledore's Army will be revealed. Your response is 'I agree to be the Secret-Keeper.' _"

Susan spoke slowly and clearly. "I agree to be the Secret-Keeper."

"_Fidelius Requiro Custodis!_"

The Fidelius Orb gave one last great pulse and with an audible _swoosh_, it flew into Susan's chest. The movement released a burst of energy around the room that caused the other students to stumble backwards.

The light around Susan grew bright, as if she was illuminating from the inside out. Wisps of her hair flew around her and her eyes shined, the light coming from them increasing and growing stronger and stronger until her pupils became completely invisible.

"Whoa!" Neville whispered under his breath—

—And just as suddenly, the light died down, and Susan exhaled, panting. She dropped to the ground, clutching her head in her hands. The Ravenclaws leaned forward, watching her carefully, and the other members of the D.A. ran over to see if she was okay.

"Susan?" Both Ernie and Hannah came up besides her. Ernie threw his arm around her, his eyes roaming over her body, making sure she was okay.

"Thank Helga's Mighty Shield you're still in one piece!"

"That was _intense_!" She looked at them, blushing as she spied the concern on Ernie's face. "Well, s-someone say something about us. Let's see if that worked."

Neville spoke up. "Dumbledore's Army . . . er, Dumbledore's Army are . . . ." He creased his brow. "The members of the D.A. are as follows—" He shrugged and smiled.

Others tried it, but no one could say the names of the members of the D.A.

"I'd say the spell was a success!" Susan said with a grin.

"All right. We've still got one more. _The Sedition Act_ and keeping Daphne's involvement a secret, as well as Dumbeldore's Army's involvement with it a secret—"

Before Neville could finish, Michael Corner stepped forward. "I'll do it. It should be me, since," he gestured between him and Daphne, "well, since Daphne and I are together and all."

Daphne smiled, but mocked annoyance at Michael. "So bloody chivalrous!" He turned as red as an apple.

"Mike, I respectfully disagree."

Michael stared at Anthony, who continued talking. "I think because you two are together that someone else should be the Secret-Keeper for this one."

He gaped at them. "B-but . . . _no_! I should do this," he turned towards Daphne and took her hands. "It's for Daphne after all!"

"It's precisely because of your relationship, even if it's supposed to be a secret outside of this room, that you shouldn't be the Secret-Keeper for _The Sedition Act_." Anthony slapped him on the shoulder. "Mike, if Daphne's suspected of anything at all, they'll go after three people specifically." He ticked off each person with his fingers. "Ginny, Blaise, and you."

Michael opened his mouth to protest, but he paused. He shut his mouth and exhaled through his nose. "Well, who would you suggest then?"

"Well, it shouldn't be Luna or anyone from Gryffindor, that's for sure."

"What about Ernie or Hannah?" Neville asked.

Ernie shrugged. "It would work. We don't have any connections to you, Daphne."

She nodded. "Yeah. That's true—"

"Or if we don't want all the Secret-Keepers in one House, it _could_ be someone from Ravenclaw. But someone who wasn't associated with Luna." Anthony looked at Michael, who raised his eyebrow.

"Go on."

"Look, I've made it no secret in my House that I haven't liked Daphne in the past, right?"

Daphne narrowed her eyes at Anthony; his hands flew up.

"That was in the past. But not everyone knows that. The only connection I have with Luna is the fact that we share the same house. That's it. We don't ever hang out together, really."

Luna nodded vigorously. "Yes! That's true Anthony. I also think you've called me batty a few times."

He cringed. "Er, sorry."

"I'll admit it hurt my feelings back then, but I'm much better now. So it's all right. I forgive you."

Anthony smiled at her awkwardly.

"But you're a friend of mine. Who's to say if they get wind of Daphne's involvement with _The Sedition Act_, that they won't go after me, you or Terry?"

"I think at that point, it becomes a question about associations, and me knowing anything about what Daphne's up to may or may not be something that they think of directly. There's a risk, but I think it's minimal," Anthony said. "What do you say? I'll be Daphne's Secret-Keeper."

Michael bit his lip and shook his head. He didn't say anything for a few moments.

However, Daphne did. "I trust you Anthony. You'd make a great Secret-Keeper." She spoke to Michael. "He's right. You told me at King's Cross that I could trust him. You trust him, right?"

"That goes without saying! It's Tony. He's like a brother to me, but—"

"But what?"

Michael blushed again, but a far deeper crimson than before. "I'm supposed to protect you."

He spoke so softly, and to Daphne alone, that she almost had to have him repeat it. But she figured out what he had said and she took hold of his tie. She pulled him down and kissed him on the lips.

"You do, and you will, okay?"

Michael looked at her, resigned to an outcome that seemed beyond his control, and nodded at his best friend. "Okay, Tony. Do it."

The D.A. completed the final Fidelius Charm and got down to business.

"Drills today! Let's not let up on defence," Neville boomed.

The other students smiled as they, once again, deferred to their leader. "Yes sir!" Seamus said, emphatically saluting him. Neville shot him a glare tinged with a smirk.

For the next hour, they practiced defensive spells and wand work in pairs, and as teams. They had been running these same drills over and over again since October, learning how to cast shields that covered other people, in case any of them ever encountered a younger student under attack.

After a few rounds, his eyes scanning the sweaty, panting faces of the students, Neville turned to Ginny and Luna. "I think we might need to do more."

Ginny wiped the perspiration off of her brow. "What do you mean more? More of these drills? More of this same—?"

Neville shook his head and looked at Luna. "I think we need to learn some of the darker stuff." He leaned closer to both of them. "I think we need to learn how to defend against the Cruciatus."

"What?" Her voice was low and dangerous in tone. Luna stared at Neville, her eyes wide. "But that means we'll have to actually _cast _the Cruciatus."

"If you can think of a better way to learn how to fend off that curse, tell me."

Ginny glared at him. "How can _you_ of all people suggest that?"

"Look, those who cast the Cruciatus can cast it with as little power or force as they want. And we'll keep the casting short. What I want us to do is learn how to tolerate it and not freeze up any time that it's used against us. We're not going to be just sitting ducks when we encounter it out there. Because we will. Hell, we already have."

"Unfortunately, Neville, you do have a point."

Ginny gaped at Luna. "How can you possibly agree with this?"

"Look at what happened during the first raid. I learned this the hard way. If we can learn to control the spell when we're forced to cast it, and if we prepare ourselves to defend against it, to not freeze as soon as it's uttered, I think we'll not only be able to protect ourselves. We might be able to protect others."

Ginny shook her head. "Neville, you're the leader of the group. I don't like this one bit, but—

The sound of the door to the Room opening interrupted her.

There was a collective gasp as a new person entered the Room.

"Um, hi," came a soft voice.

Michael and Anthony both broke away from Daphne, staring and smiling at Terry Boot, who walked towards them, his book bag slung over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I'm late. Sorry I haven't been around much." A smile flittered briefly across his face. He stopped walking and stood in front of Michael and Anthony.

"Hey."

They nodded right back. "Hey." Both wizards were trying desperately to maintain their calm.

"Mike, uh," Terry said, scratching his nose, "I'm sorry about everything. I shouldn't have punched you. I shouldn't have blamed you for . . ." He shut his eyes and inhaled shakily. "F-for what happened with my . . . f-family."

Michael stared at him, clearly not believing what he was hearing. "You're _apologizing_?"

He shook his head and patted his best friend on the shoulder. Terry gave him a small grin and the two wizards embraced, with smiles growing on their faces.

The D.A. cheered the reunion.

"Mate, don't ever apologize." Michael shouted amid the clapping and hollering. "We're here for you, y'know that? All of us."

"Thanks." Terry furrowed his brow. "Er, Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"How much longer do we hug before it becomes weird?"

"Huh? Oh!" Michael chuckled and pulled away, patting Terry's back as Anthony shook his hand and gave him a slightly more masculine one-armed embrace. And the other students, witches and wizards alike, followed suit.

"Neville?" Ginny asked after they greeted Terry.

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to tell them about your plan? With the Cruciatus and darker magic?"

Neville looked at the D.A., alight with Terry's presence. He watched Terry, more subdued than normal, but still talking, smiling, accepting a kiss on his cheek from Parvati. He heard him say softly to her, "I got all your messages. Thanks."

He shook his head. "No. It can wait until after the holidays."

* * *

Eddie Carmichael pressed the heel of his hand on the front of Margaret Brewer's shoulder. He placed his other hand behind her.

"You finished that vial of Pain-free Potion?"

Margaret nodded, her bruised and bloodied face trembling. "Y-yeah."

"All right. Then this shouldn't hurt you as much as it might've, but you will feel an odd snap once the joint is relocated back into your shoulder." Eddie smiled. "If there was a magical way to do this, I would do it in an instant. But just pushing it back in is the best way to reset a dislocated joint, particularly your shoulder."

She nodded, sweating and growing more and more pale by the moment. Eddie nodded to Padma Patil. She took the fifth year Ravenclaw girl's hand and held it snugly in her own.

Daphne stood next to Anthony, biting her thumb and hoping that Margaret's injuries looked far worse than they actually were.

"On three," Eddie said in his deep voice. He maintained a kind smile and calm demeanour for Margaret's benefit. "Ready?"

She nodded.

"One . . . two . . . _three_!"

He pushed hard on her shoulder, throwing his body into it. Margaret sucked in a breath, as did Padma. The younger Ravenclaw's knuckles turned white as she clung to the prefect's hands.

There was an audible _snap! _Margaret flinched and let out a breath. Eddie gingerly took her arm. He moved it gently at first, and then rotated it to make sure the joint was back in the right place.

"See there? Good as new."

Margaret let out a breath, as did the other Ravenclaws and Daphne. The Head Girl walked out from behind the curtain, followed closely by Anthony and Padma, allowing Eddie to examine the girl privately.

Looking around the Hospital Wing, Daphne gulped, forcing a lump back down her throat. Most of the beds were filled. About half had screens around them, with Eddie and Pomfrey darting around, checking each patient, making room for new ones that streamed in.

Around them, the students were moaning or shouting for more potions and solutions to dull their discomfort.

"This is insane," Padma whispered. "I've never seen so many students in here at once. And it looks like they've all been through hell and back."

Anthony glared furiously back at Margaret's bed, now hidden behind screens. Turning to the two girls, he leaned forwards, jabbing his finger angrily. "If I catch Clay Flint any time in the future, I'll do worse than dislocate his shoulder. I'll tear his arms out of his sockets!"

"Anthony!"

"Padma, after what that bastard did to Margaret, just because she broke up with him last year, he deserves it! He beat her, Bludgeoned her, and he very nearly broke her arms! That's domestic violence!"

"I know!" She put her hands on his chest. "But why don't we plot our little revenge scheme against Flint _in the Ravenclaw dormitory?_ It'll do no good to plan it out in the open like this."

Daphne watched as Anthony slowly calmed down.

"Use that big brain of yours, Tony."

He patted her hands as they rested on his chest. Daphne didn't miss Padma's skin colouring as he smiled at her.

"Right. You're right, Paddy."

"I hate it when you call me that," she said softly.

Anthony chuckled, for what must've been the first time that night. "I know you do."

She cleared her throat, letting her hand linger on Anthony's chest for just a few more moments. It didn't escape the Slytherin's notice.

"Well, one thing's for sure. It's getting worse." Daphne said as she looked around the Hospital. "It's like the Carrows decided to give the whole student body massive injuries and bloodletting for a lovely Christmas present."

"That's an understatement."

All three students turned and saw Eddie emerge from behind the screen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Pomfrey says it's the worst she's ever seen. The injuries like the ones Margaret here suffered are the hardest ones to take. To think someone she cared about turned so viciously on her."

He rubbed his tired eyes. "It's a mess. And the worst part about it is that Flint's going to get away with it. Neither Carrow'll do a damn thing to punish him. They'll probably throw him a party."

Daphne noticed there were thick bags under Eddie's eyes. He had lost weight too, his Trainee robes practically hanging off of him; it was something she hadn't observed prior to this evening despite the conversations she'd have with Blaise and Eddie in his little bedroom.

He looked like hell.

Eddie blinked and shook his head rapidly. "Excuse me. It looks like we have more coming in. Madam Pomfrey!" He tossed his towel over his shoulder and jogged towards the door as Neville and Parvati Levitated two younger Gryffindors in front of them. They were unconscious, but Daphne could feel her guts roil as she looked at the wounds all over their faces. Pomfrey flew out from behind another screen and gasped as she regarded the two new patients. She and Eddie readied two more beds for the injured.

Neville approached Daphne with a grim expression. "Crabbe, Goyle, and two other Slytherins got Lisle and Tommy, a couple of our third years. And they got them bad."

"Let me guess who the other two were," Daphne said. "Skinny bloke who looks like he could be charming if he wasn't trying to violate half our student body and another one that looks like he's half ape?"

Parvati nodded. "You know who we're talking about?"

"Pritchard and Baddock. They're as horrible as Crabbe and Goyle. They're also several times more intelligent than either of them put together, so they might actually be worse."

"This will get better, right? At some point all of this has to stop. At some point, won't the Carrows and Snape run out of students to torture and hurt and main."

Neville looked at Parvati, at her nervous, moistening eyes. Daphne watched him chew his cheeks as he mulled over an answer.

"A friend of mine once said, 'The brightest beam of sunlight can break through any cloud that's filled with rain.' So there's still hope. They haven't found Harry, Ron or Hermione. They haven't changed our minds that they're sadistic, murderous bastards, that they're dead wrong about everything. And when we come back from the holiday, we'll show them what the D.A.'s really made of."

Daphne cocked her eyebrow at Neville.

Padma smiled. "The 'brightest beam of light'?" She gave him a playful punch on his arm. "You sound like Luna, Nev."

He grinned at her. "Well then. That's a start."


	39. Chapter 38: Lovers' Dance

**A/N: **Ahoy! There be shaggin', although it's all in the first half. Thanks to respitechristopher and Sara Winters for reassuring me this first section's decently written. Rated M for sexual themes (though nothing outright explicit), provocative imagery and language.

* * *

**Chapter 38: Lovers' Dance and Luna's Goodbye**

It was the night before they were to depart for the holidays.

The Room of Requirement looked very much like the Ravenclaw common room. Daphne had mentioned to Michael that being surrounded by small galaxies while they snogged made her feel, "Out of this world. Literally!" The biggest difference was that instead of a couch in front of the warm fireplace, there was a bed, one that resembled Michael's from his dormitory.

And he and Daphne were making good use of it. Or, at least they were trying to.

She lifted her head up right as he was undoing her bra. "Wait! Michael?"

"What is it?" He was a little breathless; after all, Daphne's hand was still on his crotch. His jeans were unbuttoned and her top was falling off. Her bra had loosened from her body.

"Did you hear that?" She struggled to sit upright. "It sounded like someone screaming."

"I didn't hear anything." Michael kept a hold of her arm. "Come on, it's okay. The others know where we are, and we have our Galleons."

"But—"

"Stop. Take a breath."

Daphne fell back on the bed, pressing her hands against her eyes. "I hate that Slytherin's so close to the dungeons. I can hear screaming even if no one's around."

He stroked her face and kissed her forehead. "I hate it too."

"There were five this week alone. They each got ten lashes. And that's not even counting the ones that they cursed." She shook her head. "I can hear screaming, even in the middle of the night. Millicent and I sleep with a lamp on. Drives the other two mental."

"Screw them," Michael whispered, grazing her cheeks with his lips.

Daphne sighed. "I wish I could stay with you or Ginny."

"I've got an idea. Do you trust me?"

There was no mistaking the little mischievous glint in Michael's eyes. It was something Daphne could never resist.

"I do."

"Right then. Close your eyes."

She complied, and she felt Michael's hand cover them as well. She couldn't see him, but she could sense he was leaning forwards; his breath tickled her right cheek.

"Your eyes are closed, right?"

"Michael your hand's _covering _them."

"Just want to make sure you're not trying to cheat by peeking through my fingers."

She grinned and smacked him playfully on his arm. "Not a cheater!"

"Course you're not." She felt him kiss her ear, and then her neck. "This is something I used to do when I was scared about something, or I was nervous or stressed—"

"You'd snog half-naked girls with their eyes closed shut?"

He laughed quietly. "I'm adapting my old methods. Now, do you want to crack jokes all night or do you want to let me work my magic and take you to a happy place?"

She rolled her eyes, not that he could see them. "Work your magic, Corner." Daphne couldn't stop smiling as she talked.

He kissed her ear, nibbling it gently. "We're lying in a field. Nothing but grass and flowers beneath us. The sun is high in the sky and it's warm, but it's not too hot because there's a breeze that's keeping us cool."

She felt his breath tickle her skin as he kissed around her collarbone and back up her neck. Daphne sighed with pleasure; she could feel him smile against her body.

"I'm with you," he continued, and she could feel him move his head down, past her collarbone this time. "And we're having _a lot _of fun."

She felt him remove her bra.

"Doing what?" she asked smiling, letting his lips elicit little gasps from her as he swirled his tongue and mouth over her sensitive skin.

"Hmm," he hummed. "Whatever you want. Use your imagination, Greengrass."

She laughed, and he continued to explore her body with his mouth. Michael removed his hand from her face, and brought it back down to her chest, caressing one breast as he kissed the other.

Daphne moaned, arching her back a little bit, making sure he knew that he shouldn't stop what he was doing.

"Michael," she moaned; he was continuing to touch and lavish her skin with his mouth and it was beyond _amazing_!

"Mmm." One hand had left her chest and was now hovering on her inner thigh. "Yeah?"

She raised her head. "I want to . . . uh."

This was a little awkward. She had never really had to mention or ask a boyfriend what she was about to ask Michael. How, exactly, did one phrase the question?

"_Would you like to have some nice sex, Michael old chap?"_

"_Mister Corner, I would like to invite you to the very great honour of being inside me. Please R.S.V.P. if you would like to attend."_

"_Mike, would you be a dear and shag me until I can't remember my name?"_

Her voice caught in her throat.

"What do you want, Daphne?"

Michael's hand gently stroking her body below was not doing anything to help her use her words.

"Sex. Michael. With you." Her voice was strangled and the delivery was more than a little off.

But his hand had stopped stroking her.

"Sex?" he whispered, nervous, but excited.

Daphne nodded and reached up to run her fingers through his soft brown hair, falling in layers around his face and past his chin. It was getting longer since he hadn't had a proper cut in so long. There was some stubble on his chin and cheeks; she liked him clean-shaven, but she couldn't help giving him a little scratch and feeling the coarse hair on her fingertips.

"I want to. But I don't know if you're okay—"

"Yeah. I want to. I've sort of wanted to for ages." He stared at her, a slightly dizzy smile growing on his face. He seemed not quite sure if she was being serious.

So Daphne showed him just how serious she was.

She pressed her lips against his, letting her tongue glide across his mouth, grinning when he drew her even closer to him. Their mouths tangled as they moved their heads every which way, deepening their kiss. It grew more intense with each passing minute.

She kept snogging him as her hands fell to his unbuttoned jeans; she started pushing them down his body. He pulled on them as well, speeding up the effort and soon they were off, doffed onto the floor like a dark blue puddle. With two thumbs hooked around the elastic band, Michael pulled her knickers off completely and she removed his shirt, her hands and arms returning to feel the skin of his bare chest, pressing hers against his.

They were naked.

Starkers.

Completely unencumbered by any clothing.

They stopped snogging and looked at each other, the realization hitting them at the exact same time.

"We're—"

"One-hundred percent naked."

They took a moment to look at each other's bodies . . . and then they smashed their faces together.

Daphne fell backwards, as Michael put his tongue to good and enthusiastic use.

Her mouth. Her neck. Her chest. Her—

She whimpered, grasping his hair with just enough force to tell him "Keep doing whatever it is that you're doing and _dontstopfortheloveofMerlin!!_" This was amazing, her skin touching his, feeling him everywhere — his lips and mouth all over her body,

It was fantastic! His soft hair touched her flesh and she trembled, overwhelmed as he swirled his tongue. She clenched bed sheets, trying desperately not to grab him and disturb what he was doing to her.

Daphne had never realized the pure pleasure of bare skin touching bare skin, the awareness of the slick roughness of his tongue, the soft pads of his lips as he lavished her and embraced her with slender arms and nothing at all between them. It felt so good, so real . . . .

It was time.

"Michael," she panted. "Now!"

"Now?"

"Godric yes, now! Please!"

He lifted his body back up and hovered above her. "Oh, uh, isn't there a charm—"

She nodded swiftly. "Did it before I got here. Been doing it the last couple of times we've met."

His eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"Hell yes! Always be prepared."

"Oh-okay." Michael breathed in deep. "Right," he said breathlessly. "Should I?"

She nodded.

He kept his gaze steady, making sure her hips were directly below his. Michael gave her a kiss and smiled as he dipped below and lifted up—

There was a flash in her mind, and she could hear a small voice crying out, "Don't do it! What if he has his way with you and it's just a mere shag for him? He'll leave you. You're vulnerable. He's taking advantage of you!"

But in that split second, in that infinitesimal moment that was the space dividing "everything as it was" from the frightening, unknowable future, Daphne answered that voice, her mind clear, her thoughts unambiguous and resolute.

(_Stop._)

(_Trust him. He loves you._)

(_Believe that it's real_.)

And he thrust his hips forward. Instinctively, she thrust hers toward his.

"Oh!" she moaned. She felt it. _Him_. Not Zabini or Nott.

But Michael Corner.

She trembled as the powerful shock of giving him full, unhesitating access to her heart and body rippled through her core.

(_He's inside me._)

Daphne sucked in a breath as she felt her body surround him. There was only a moment's pain, as it had been a while since she had last done this. But it was fleeting. And when it was gone, all she could feel was—

(_Amazing!_)

It was _good_. So, so bloody good!

Her eyes found his, and she smiled, realizing she saw it, she sensed it — their connection. It was deep and strong. And real.

"Wh-wow!" Smiling in disbelief, Michael looked down at her. "Daphne," he whispered breathlessly. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No. How does it feel?"

"Amazing."

"Happy Christmas, Michael." She bit her lip as he laughed.

"I can barely think," he said, kissing her. He smiled tremulously as his body reacted to their new physical bond.

"Don't think. _Move._"

He nodded, and he did . . . .

And two minutes and twenty-five seconds later, it was all over.

Michael Corner lay flat on his back, his eyes glassy and his body covered with sweat.

"I never, ever thought anything could top, y'know, that day in the Astronomy Tower," he whispered into the air. "But _this_? We – had – _sex_!" He ran his hands over his sweaty face and propped himself up on his arm. "Was it good? Did I do all right? Daphne—"

He leaned over to her. "Did you, y'know, feel it? Did you have one?"

She turned her head and gave him the biggest grin.

Too big.

(_No questions. No questions. No questions._)

(_I am not going to be Little Miss Bringdown!_)

"Fabulous Michael! You were great. Spectacular even!"

Michael's face fell. "You didn't, did you?" He flopped backwards onto the bed.

She gave him a mollifying expression. "It still felt good."

"But both of us should have had one!"

"Michael," she said, hoping to placate him, "it's your first time. We might have to do it a few times and build up your stamina, eh?" She playfully poked him in the stomach, but he continued to pout.

"Stamina? But we did it for what? Ten minutes, right?"

She couldn't help it. She let out a hearty guffaw. "_Ten_?! Are we counting in dog years?"

His mouth dropped open. "Dog years?" He bounded on her, and Daphne giggled when he growled, nudging her with his head, tickling her between her shoulder and neck.

And then he reached down beneath the bed, grabbed his wand, and performed cleaning charms on her before Daphne could say another word.

"Er, Michael?"

He dropped his wand and gazed at her. "It's your turn."

"Oh? Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh."

"I mean, if you're tired—"

He shrugged. "Maybe," Michael kissed one cheek and then the other, "I should tell you," he kissed her forehead, "what I was thinking about doing to you." He grinned, leaned down and whispered in her ear. Her eyes widened.

He gazed at her with fiery eyes. Slowly, his hand travelled back down her body, finding her legs, her inner thighs. Her—

(_!!!_)

She moaned again as he began touching her with a slow rhythm. She lifted her hips into the air and shook with ever increasing heat.

"Daphne, one thing you should know about me," Michael murmured, kissing her before his head made its slow progress down towards utter bliss, "is that I'm a thorough bloke."

Afterwards, Daphne found herself agreeing with him. Thoroughly.

* * *

Ginny never thought she would be so happy to see King's Cross. In years' past, there had always been a lingering pang to leave Hogwarts, to say good-bye to her friends and her boyfriends if she had one.

This evening, the beginning of Christmas holiday, Ginny was the first to step off the Hogwarts' Express. And she started running.

She felt her feet pounding on the concrete. She ignored the rows of Ministry "officials" dress in Death Eater garb standing with their wands pressed to their forearms. She didn't see anything in front of her, but she ran and she didn't look back, letting her trunk fall on the floor of Platform 9 ¾.

She threw herself right into the arms of her father.

"Dad!" Ginny didn't try to stop the tears of relief, of happiness from falling. She closed her eyes and smiled as Arthur Weasley, in an obvious state of relief himself, picked her up off the ground.

"Gingersnap," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. He pulled apart from her and took hold of her shoulders. "You're all right," he sighed, his hand pushing back her hair, checking her face and her arms for scars and bruises. And then he smacked his head. "Oh, for the love of Merlin! Security questions. I forgot!"

She chuckled. "What is your dearest ambition?"

Arthur smiled. "To find out how airplanes stay in the air."

She felt a tap on her shoulders and she turned around. Her face exploded with happiness when she spied who it was.

"What was the name that Fred and George gave your stuffed bear when you were five years old?"

Ginny bounced on the balls of her feet, desperate to throw her arms around him. She answered the security question in a rush, managing to get out the long-form answer in one breath. "Ronald – McPoopyPants – Terwillikers – Bear – also – _affectionately_ – _known_ – _as_ – _Ronnie –_ _McPoopyPants_! _Bill!_" She jumped up as high as she could, clinging onto her eldest brother and squeezing the life force out of him.

"Merlin, Gin. When the hell did you start hugging like Mum?"

He let her go and she swatted him. "Stop it."

"Hey, don't I get some love too? Y'know, as your favourite brother?"

Ginny gaped at the stockier, brawny redheaded man approaching her, his arms extended. She could just make out his large dragon tattoo on his right arm.

"No! _Charlie_?" She barely gave him a chance to speak before stampeding towards him and hugging him until he choked. "What the hell're you doing here?" She broke the embrace and stared at him, hardly believing she was standing here, on the platform, surrounded by Weasleys.

Charlie cocked an eyebrow at his dad. "Are we just ignoring the whole security question thing now?" He looked at Ginny and sniffed the air above her. "'Cause this one smells like a Death Eater!_'_" He winked and she gave him a playful smack.

Arthur looked at him flatly. "We are not giving up the security questions, although I'll let it slide, Ginny. Just this once. Charlie was never out of our sights. But you need to remember to ask those questions from now on."

"Yes Dad," Ginny said, smiling more broadly than she had in ages. She felt another pair of eyes on her.

Xenophilius Lovegood peered over his pince-nez and smiled broadly at her. "Hello young Miss Weasley!" He held out her hand for her to shake. "I am so glad to see you, my dear! And my!" He bobbed his head, his red fez balanced precariously on top of his mound of frizzy hair. "It's a relief that the school has not brought down your zest for life!"

He pumped her arm so hard, Ginny thought he would shake it right off.

"Well, I'd thank your daughter for that, Mr. Lovegood."

"Please call me Xenophilius or Xeno! Our families are practically neighbours, and we've known each other now for quite some time. I know Luna considers you her best friend."

She responded with a wide grin of her own. "Luna _is_ the best!"

"Mr. Lovegood and Luna will be travelling with us back to Ottery St. Catchpole." Arthur said. "Xeno, I wish we could invite you over for dinner at some point, but Ron's condition—"

Xenophilius waved his hand. "Tut tut, Arthur! Spattergroit can be a nasty affliction. Luna's Uncle Filibert had a nasty bout that lasted for over a year. I do wish young Ronald the best!"

Arthur looked at his two oldest sons; Ginny noticed a subtle wink passed between all three wizards, although for reasons unknown to her, Bill and Charlie blushed furiously.

"Ah! Young Charles," Xenophilius said. "Might I inquire a moment about a matter that I've been curious about?"

Charlie was about to nod but Xenophilius, far too excited to wait, asked him, "When you're working on the dragon reserve, do you encounter much trouble with Flame-Retardant Ferrets? I know they're particularly pesky creatures and can be quite the pest during dragon mating and egg-laying seasons."

Ginny and Bill both had to stifle a hearty guffaw as Charlie struggled to say something. "I've got absolutely no idea how to answer that, Mr. Lovegood."

Xenophilius patted him on the back. "It's a difficult situation, Charles. A difficult one indeed!"

"Oh, Mr. Lovegood, sir," Ginny said, tapping on his arm. "I see Luna coming now."

Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom were both stepping out of the train. Neville stayed back, searching for his gran, but Luna spotted them instantly. She gave them a big wave.

"Ah, my little Luna-beam! She looks so happy."

And she did indeed. Luna had shared a compartment with the rest of the Gryffindor D.A. members and after setting up several Privacy Charms, they managed to work out on some strategies, as well as an ever-growing list of football and Quidditch cheers adapted to support Harry Potter. Daphne had managed to stop by during her patrols to join the discussions, albeit briefly. Although Ginny had noticed she seemed loopier and far more giggly than she was normally.

(_F__or that matter, Michael seemed to be in a similar state of bliss._)

(_Ew!_)

"Never give up!" Luna had said, right before the train came to a stop at King's Cross. "No matter how dark things get. And always smile. That's something my mother told me when I was nine, and I've kept it close to my heart ever since."

Ginny waved right back at her, spying Neville just past Luna's shoulders as he pointed somewhere to his right, apparently having spotted Augusta Longbottom.

She cupped her mouth like a bullhorn. "Luna! You're coming—"

Suddenly, a dark robed sentry stepped right in front of her, holding a piece of paper in his hands. "You are Luna Lovegood." It was not a question.

Ginny stopped breathing. Behind her, she heard Xenophilius move.

"What's going . . . why is that man talking to my daughter?" It was the first time she had ever heard Xenophilius sound frightened. There was a growing current of anger in his voice; subtle, but Ginny did not miss it. He shoved past the Weasleys and started walking towards his daughter.

Everything seemed to stop on the platform, except for sentry and Luna. Neville turned back around, fury building in his eyes. Augusta, too had joined him, and she watched the scene unfold, a mix of horror and disgust crossing her face. A stream of older Ravenclaws, including Michael, Terry, Anthony, Padma and Morag MacDougal, looked on, helpless as the Death Eater grabbed Luna roughly by her shoulders. More students poured out of the train as a chorus of yelling drew the crowd.

"Sir, please! I'm not sure what I've done—"

The Death Eater smacked her across the face. "Shut your mouth!"

Ginny gasped. Arthur, Bill and Charlie all mobilized and started moving forward. Arthur, however, turned around and pointed at his second oldest son.

"Charlie, take your sister back to the Burrow! Bill, come with me."

Charlie nodded and he returned to Ginny without argument, picking up her trunk.

"C'mon, Gin! You heard Dad."

"Dad!" Ginny yelled at him. "I'm not leaving you here!"

"Not now, Ginevra!" The look on Arthur's face killed any response she might've had. "Go with your brother!"

"Gin, he's not going to be swayed," Charlie had a hand on her arm and was pulling him along with her. She hissed in frustration, but she kept her eyes and ears open as long as she possibly could.

Just as they were about to depart the train station, she could hear the booming voice of the sentry who had hit Luna, "Miss Lovegood, you are hereby ordered to accompany us to the Ministry of Magic to be interrogated and detained."

She saw the figures of her father and Bill talking fast, pleading with the Ministry officials. And as Xenophilius approached them, another sentry came up from behind and whacked him across the shoulders. People shouted and gasped and yelled as they started binding Xenophilius' hands behind him, in front of his daughter's silvery eyes.

* * *

Almost three hours after Ginny and Charlie arrived home, Arthur and Bill finally made it back with Daphne in tow.

"They've arrested Luna and Xeno." Arthur said solemnly, as he removed his winter robes and accepted a big embrace from Molly Weasley — as well as a bowl of stew, freshly made that evening.

"On what grounds are they holding Luna of all people?" Molly asked him, horrified.

"On the grounds that Luna 'has engaged in and/or assisted with seditious activities in opposition to the Ministry'. They think she's been helping her father by providing him material for _The_ _Quibbler_."

Ginny and Daphne gave each other looks; they lowered their heads and focused on their respective stew bowls.

"Xeno was arrested under the _actual_ Sedition Decree. He's always thought it was a matter of time before they finally got him. But he wasn't expecting them to actually take Luna as well."

Molly shook her head as she placed glasses of pumpkin juice and hot chocolate in front of Arthur, Daphne and Bill. "Merlin bless that man! He's the only one of the whole wizarding press who has the courage to write the truth."

Charlie had shovelled a large amount of bread and stew at the same time into his mouth. "'E's publish' th' 'nonymuses 'ticles—"

"For heaven's sake, Charlie! How old are you?" Molly swatted him with her big wooden spoon. "Swallow your food and then talk!"

Charlie did and he opened his mouth again. "He's been publishing those 'Nonnie Mouse' articles. You know, _The Sedition Act._" He snorted and laughed.

Daphne and Ginny both slurped their stew broth very loudly.

"They're drop-dead hysterical, but those articles, along with all the pro-Harry Potter material — it's a wonder that they didn't get to him before." Charlie chuckled again as he drank his pumpkin juice.

"I honestly don't know how he managed to either," Arthur sipped his chocolate. "Xeno told me that, as editor, he could modify some of the more incendiary pieces by removing words like 'fact' and replacing them with 'in this writer's opinion', or 'it's possible'." Arthur shrugged. Xeno also played up some of the humour of the pieces; if the Ministry pressed him, he could say that the articles were meant to be taken tongue-in-cheek. Very few have ever taken _The Quibbler_ seriously, although its readership since the coup has skyrocketed."

"Those _Sedition Acts_ were some of the funniest things I've ever read." Bill said, raising his mug of cocoa.

Daphne blushed but remained quiet.

"Not to mention accurate, from the looks of it," he continued. "There's been a really good response to it on _Potterwatch_."

"You're still broadcasting that?" Ginny's eyes alighted. "We caught one of the broadcasts. When you were on!"

"Yeah. We about lost it when we heard your voice, Roar," Daphne said, winking at him.

It was Bill's turn to blush. "Yeah. That was one of the twin's brightest ideas to date. Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond my control," he said, coughing, "I've been unable to participate in other broadcasts. Hey Dad, do you have any theories about why the Ministry's arresting Xeno now? And why they'd take someone as harmless as Luna?"

Ginny peered at her eldest brother; there was a flush creeping up his neck. She got the distinct impression that he had just changed the subject.

When she looked over at Charlie, he was furiously glugging his stew. And turning as red as an apple.

Something was going on, and whatever it was, Bill and Charlie were keeping it from the family.

"I believe the Ministry took Luna," Arthur offered, "to put pressure on Xeno to stop publishing things like _The Sedition Act _and the paper's constant defending of Harry Potter. _The Quibbler_'s been highly negative regarding the Ministry and Minister Thicknesse too; on more than one occasion, they've insinuated that Thicknesse is under the Imperius Curse."

Daphne snorted, but her blush still hadn't receded. "Well, that would explain a lot."

Arthur gave her a rueful smile. "It would indeed."

"Dad, Mum, I've got to get back to Shell Cottage."

Molly set her fork down on her dish. "Oh, Bill! Can't you stay for a little longer? You and Fleur have been spending an awful lot of time there—"

"Mum, the place is a bit of a fixer-upper. And we're just . . . sort of, er . . . we're enjoying the married life."

Charlie spluttered on another bite of his stew. Bill flashed him a wide-eyed, annoyed expression.

"_Careful_ there, Charlie. Don't choke on your food."

Charlie smiled shakily. "Yeah . . . no. Wouldn't want to choke on this wonderful stew Mum's made."

Ginny watched the exchange, tapping her fingers on the table.

(_Right. That does it!_)

She got up and gave Bill a hug and kiss on the cheek. Daphne shook Bill's hand and after more goodbyes and well wishes, Bill departed for Shell Cottage.

"Mum, thank you so much for this amazing feast!" She faked a big yawn. "Oh my! I didn't realize how exhausted I was! I would stay and help clean up, but Daphne and I have had a long day—"

"Actually, Ginny, I'm not that tired—"

"_And_," Ginny said loudly, speaking over Daphne, "I'm not sure we can get our belongings upstairs by ourselves. Charlie, would you mind, my dear, sweet brother, helping us with our things?"

Daphne cocked her eyebrow; Charlie, however, wiped his mouth and doffed his napkin on the table. "Sure! These muscles've been aching for a little workout." He grinned and winked at both of them, flexing his arm for emphasis.

Ginny rolled her eyes. She flipped around and started up the stairs, Daphne just behind her.

Once they entered her bedroom, Charlie placed Ginny's trunk on her bed and Daphne's on hers. He was about to leave when Ginny slammed the door shut on him, locking all three inside.

"Hey! What's going—?"

"Oh, I could ask you the same thing, Charles Septimus Weasley! You and Bill both changed subjects whenever Bill started talking about anything having to do with Shell Cottage. And you were choking on your food."

Charlie gaped at her. He crossed his thick arms. "I . . . I've got no idea what you're talking about."

"Holy—!" Daphne snapped her fingers and pointed at his neck. "You're turning into a strawberry, Weasley."

"Telltale sign." Ginny grinned at Charlie smugly. "Fred and George always loved playing card games with Bill and Chuckles. They have the _worst _straight faces in the world. Can't bluff their way off a broomstick."

"Can too!"

"Can _not_! So spill. Something's up with Bill and Fleur at Shell Cottage, and it's more than just 'married life'."

"Ginny," he said, pointing at her with one very serious finger, "don't. Just don't, all right? It doesn't concern you. I shouldn't even know about it—"

He cringed and did a little angry hop. "Dammit! Just shut it." He balled up his fist and patted it rapidly against his mouth. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

"Charlie, is it Bill and Fleur?" Daphne asked. "They're doing all right, aren't they?"

He nodded. "Oh yeah. They're doing just fine. Great actually." This time, he wasn't blushing.

"Okay, so if not them, then what . . . wait! Fleur's not pregnant, is she?"

"No. Nothing like that. But, just trust me. Leave it alone."

Ginny ignored her brother's grave expression. "You're telling _me _to leave it alone?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Fine. You leave me no choice."

"No choice about what?"

"I didn't want to resort to this, but if you're not going to tell us, then it's time for—"

She held her hands up in front of his chest, crooking her fingers like they were claws.

"_No_."

"Yes! It's Nipple Knobbing time." She flexed her fingers, her grin practically bloodthirsty. "And to think, my fingers were feeling rusty!"

He covered his chest with both his hands and gave her a wild look. "You wouldn't!"

"Try me." She stepped closer to him and he backed away.

"I _hate _Nipple Knobs!"

"I know! So 'fess up, Weasley." She kept walking towards him, her fingers curling around like little moving daggers.

"What's 'Nipple Knobs'?" Daphne asked, her eyes glued to the cowering Charlie and the advancing Ginny.

"You'll see." Ginny said — and she lunged, digging her skinny fingers into Charlie's chest, and twisting as hard as she could through his shirt. Daphne watched, laughing in horror at the scene.

"_Nooo!_ Ow! Ouch! Ginny . . . Gin! St-stop! Gah- . . . _dammit_! _Fuck_! _FUCK_! I hate this! I _hate_ _this_! _I HATE NIPPLE KNOBS_!" Charlie yelled and howled as Ginny continued to pinch and twist.

"Had enough, Weasley?" She clung onto a chunk of his chest.

"I'm . . . still . . . not . . . _telling you_!" Charlie's face was growing red, and it looked like he was holding his breath.

The siblings stared each other down, Ginny still grabbing Charlie's chest and pinching him with all of her might and Charlie slowly turning purple and blotchy, his eyes starting to water. He couldn't pry her off of him; she was hurting him far too much.

"You three! What's going on up there?" Molly's strident voice yelled from downstairs.

"_NOTHING!_" They shouted at the same time. Ginny still had a vice-like grip on Charlie.

Finally, she released him, and he fell backwards against the wall, rubbing his chest.

"Bollocks!" he exclaimed breathlessly, pulling his collar out so he could get a look at himself. "I'm gonna have bruises there in the morning!"

Ginny glared at him. "Well, maybe it'll serve you right for keeping secrets from us."

He stared at her, his face growing more and more red. But this time, he was angry. "Do you think I want to? I don't, all right? But I have to, because sometimes, there is a greater reason not to say things. Especially when everything's going to hell!"

Ginny just looked at him, angrily, for a few moments.

"And don't think I didn't notice the furtive glances, the blushing both of you did at the table tonight, every time Luna's name was mentioned . . . or when we started talking about _The Sedition Act_."

Ginny and Daphne flashed each other anxious expressions.

"See?" Charlie wagged his finger angrily at the two girls. "I know you two know a helluva lot more than you're letting on, but am I beating you up to get the answer?"

She pulled her mouth to the side. "No," she mumbled humbly.

"That's right, I'm not. And I'm not going to, because I don't hit girls . . . or little runts like you."

Ginny smacked him. "Not a runt. Still managed to knob you good."

Charlie glared at her, rubbing his chest. "Believe me, I'll find a way to get you back for that. So, we're square, right?"

The girls looked at each other and nodded. "We're square."

"Good. Now that I know you won't try to attack me, give me a hug before I go to bed."

He spread out his arms and Ginny embraced him. "You're staying careful, right?"

"Of course! It's me." He waved goodnight to Daphne and made for the door. Ginny unlocked it so he could leave them alone.

She finally stretched herself out and collapsed on the bed. "Think maybe if I shut my eyes and wake up tomorrow, everything that has happened since Dumbledore died might have turned out to be some horrible dream?"

Daphne snorted as she rummaged around her things. "I wish we could be so lucky." She brushed off a book from the bottom of her trunk.

"What've you got?"

Daphne held it out for her. "It's just that book about Dumbledore."

Ginny raised her eyebrow. "The thing Rita Skeeter _calls_ a book about Dumbledore?"

"Er . . . yeah," Daphne scratched her head awkwardly. "I started it, but with all the crap that hit us this term, I stopped reading it. Maybe over the holidays I'll pick it back up."

"Is it any good?"

"Well, it's highly sensational. But I wonder if there's any truth to it. How much is honest and how much is bollocks." She gave it one last lingering glance and set it on Ginny's desk. Then she reached into her robes and pulled out her D.A. Galleon.

"What d'ya reckon? Think that we can send people messages on these coins from here?"

Ginny moved over and sat next to Daphne on the spare bed. "Might be worth a shot. Go for it."

She and Daphne sent out a message to the rest of the D.A. that Luna and her dad had been arrested. However, they didn't receive a response after a few minutes.

"Well? Why don't we call it a night, eh?" Daphne asked.

"Sure."

The girls got ready for bed. And just when Ginny slid into hers, she reached up to turn off her light.

"No!"

She stopped, her wand in the air, the tip pointed right at the glass of the old-fashioned lamp. Daphne was staring at her with rounded eyes, her own arm outstretched.

"No?"

"It's, um. . . ." Daphne struggled with something. However, before she could get it out, the Slytherin threw the bed sheets off of her.

"N-never mind. I'll just go sleep in Percy's bedroom. Like before."

It dawned on Ginny that Daphne didn't want to turn out the light. She scrambled out of her bed and slapped her palm against the door.

"Daphne, do you want to leave the light on? While we sleep?"

She looked at Ginny, not saying anything at first.

"I don't mind if we leave it on. I'll dim it a bit."

"W-well, sure. Okay." Daphne nodded vigorously. "If _you _need to have it on, that is."

Ginny cocked her eyebrow. "If I—"

The look in Daphne's eyes told Ginny that the Slytherin didn't want to admit that she needed a light to sleep, even at the Burrow. As far away from Hogwarts, the Carrows, and Snape as one could get. But she clearly needed something to get through the night.

With the way things had been going, so did Ginny.

She smiled at Daphne and nudged her head towards the empty bed. "No problem, Daff."

Once Daphne had reached her bed and tucked herself in, Ginny tapped her wand on the lamp. The light in the room dimmed, until a soft glow filled the space between the girls.

They fell into a fitful night's sleep.


	40. Chapter 39: Preparing for the Holidays

**A/N:** A longish note to acknowledge something that had been bugging me—

I had much of this story, including Chapter 37: Fidelius, plotted out some time before I heard about the wonderful tale authored by one of my favorites, Thanfiction: _**Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness**_, which I am reading _very _slowly.

Going back and looking at some of the chapters I had already read of his story, I realized there were some unintentional similarities between our works (most notably my version of the Fidelius). I had striven to make "7th Year From Hell" as original as I could, but alas, there seemed to be some unconscious overlap between our works. I've spoken with him about it, and he's fine so long as I don't lift entire passages from his work, which I would never, ever do! But definitely go and check out Thanfiction's work. He's brilliant!

I own nothing. Thanks to the eagle-eyed JJ Rust for finding a couple of mistakes; they have been corrected.

* * *

**Chapter 39: Preparing for the Holidays**

"Xeno's back home." Arthur said, hanging his scarf next to the front door. It was the twenty-first of December, the day after Luna's arrest. The Ministry had apparently released Xenophilius, but all it had taken was one day to break him. "He's frightened, of course. And he's unwilling to talk to anyone. I tried to offer my help to find Luna, but he thinks it's our fault. Harry's fault, actually. And he slammed the door on me."

"Oh, the poor man!" Molly exclaimed as she bustled about the kitchen.

"For this to happen during the holidays is tragic, indeed." He accepted a mug of tea from his wife. "Wherever Luna is, she's not at the Ministry."

"It's not possible they actually put her in Azkaban, is it Dad?"

Arthur visibly winced. "As horrible as that is to imagine, sweetheart, it's likely. We're trying to find out, but, to be honest, it's a little difficult to do."

"Why?"

"Kingsley's been on the run since the safe-house attack in November; his access to the Auror Department is limited at this point. Tonks is the same. And they don't release the names of their prisoners, not to lowly Ministry officials like myself." He scrubbed his face with his hands. "I can't believe I'm the one to say it, but Fred and George're probably our best bet to find out any information about her."

The girls left Ginny's parents in the kitchen and moved towards the living room, hoping to talk about Luna more privately.

"What if they don't find out where she is? From all appearances, they've abducted her. What if they have her locked up? What if she's—"

"Ginny, How can they do that? She's _Luna_!"

"I know. But the people who have her are evil." Ginny turned her head back towards the kitchen, making sure that her mum was out of earshot. "First Terry's mum and dad. Now Luna's missing." She slumped down on the couch. "She did so much to keep us going, even when people were ready to quit."

There was no mistaking that Ginny was talking about the D.A., even though she couldn't say Luna or Terry were in it directly.

"I never thought I'd be saying this, but she's one hell of a witch."

Ginny grinned sadly at Daphne's admission. "That she is."

"Hey, I almost forgot. You all right?"

Ginny raised her eyebrow. "What do you mean by 'Am I all right?' Not really. I'm worried about Luna."

Daphne shook her head. "Last night. You had a really bad dream."

She blushed; she hadn't realized that she had done anything or said anything while she had been asleep. Even though she knew exactly what she had dreamt about. "Oh, er, I don't even remember what the dream was."

"You kept saying something like, '_No, don't make me! Don't take me down there_!'"

Ginny felt her face reddening furiously.

(_Good Godric! What else could I have possibly said?_)

"Like I said," she kept her voice light, "I can't even remember what I had been dreaming about."

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief when Daphne appeared satisfied with her answer and dropped it to talk about lighter fare.

* * *

Despite being thankful that they were back at the Burrow, Ginny could feel tension crackling in the air; Luna's arrest was only the tip of the iceberg.

She thought back to Daphne nearly fleeing her room because she needed to sleep with the light on. The soft glow of her old-fashioned bedside lamp might have been enough to help Daphne get a little sleep that night, but for Ginny, it hadn't been enough.

She had had another nightmare. And it hadn't been her first.

It was her third one ever since touching that diadem and feeling something inside it move. She didn't know how or why, but coming into contact with that little tiara had dredged up the worst of Ginny's memories; the nightmares revolved around her first year, her possession, and her abduction into the Chamber of Secrets.

Why? Why now? Had it been something with the tiara, or were the things going on at Hogwarts somehow getting to her, tearing down those partitions Emotional Healer Flora Auditor had helped her build in her mind? She knew she wasn't that scared and helpless first year child anymore. She wasn't inside the Chamber, dying at the feet of a madman. She knew that Tom Riddle wasn't still inside her head, making her do disgusting things that she didn't want to do. Ginny was in control now, despite all the chaos around her, destroying her world.

So why was she having these stupid dreams again?

She pondered these questions as she pulled out a box lodged deep within her closet, a box that had been unopened since she started her third year. She blew a layer of dust of the first book, and, with a frightened but resigned touch Ginny read the title—

_Possession: The Magic That Controls, The Magic that Haunts_, by Emotional Healer Animus Grey, Chief Warlock of St. Mungo's Emotional Healing Arts Department, 1982.

"Somethings won't ever change, eh Gin?" she whispered to herself. She leaned against her pillows and cracked open the book, flipping to the back, to the chapter covering long-term affects on victims of soul possession.

* * *

Early the following morning, Molly came up to Ginny's room armed with two partially empty bags. She put them on the floor in front of the girls.

"These are for you and Daphne. There are already some toiletries in the bags. You'll need to pack some underwear, a couple of changes of clothes, good shoes and socks. Daphne, if you need to, you can borrow some of Ginny's. Ginny, you will share with Daphne and vice versa. There'll be no argument."

"Sure Mum. But why?"

"Your father and I will be taking these bags to our emergency location in case the Burrow ever becomes compromised." Molly's voice and demeanour were even and steady; it reminded Ginny of how she had sounded when Death Eaters invaded the Burrow following Bill and Fleur's wedding.

"If the Burrow is compromised?"

"We're not taking anything for granted. If we are attacked, we will leave. No questions, no hesitation. In the meantime, we need to be prepared. Now, make sure you get a coat in there in case we need to go during winter, and include a jumper, trousers, and however many shirts you can fit. Do not forget good shoes and socks! That is important. Make sure whatever goes into these bags can be worn throughout the year."

She was just about to leave the room when she turned back around. "I want this to be done in a couple of hours. And never, ever go to sleep without knowing where your wands are." She shut the door on them as they scrambled to start filling their bags.

* * *

When the twins appeared at the Burrow a few hours later, Ginny thought they might have brought with them something about Luna.

But . . .

"There's nothing, unfortunately." Fred said with a sigh. "Not even the faintest whisper of her whereabouts. We've put out feelers everywhere for Luna."

"It's hard to miss her." George added. "We've told our contacts to watch out for a sixteen-year old girl with blonde hair, buggy grey eyes and a penchant for wearing vegetables and bottle-caps."

Daphne tried not laugh, but George did have a point. Ginny, though, glared at her brothers.

Fred shrugged. "If we get word that someone's been talking about a herd of snorkelling dingbats in the area, we'll know we're on the right trail."

"Be serious!" Molly scolded them. "Luna is a sweetheart, one of the most charming—"

"By charming you mean weird?"

Molly glared at Fred.

"We're doing what we can, Mum." George said, holding up his hands. "But the people that _we _know who would know something? They know nothing. So it's a dead end."

Feeling depressed and realizing talking about it wasn't solving anything, Ginny changed the subject from Luna to how the shop was doing.

"Oh, it's been a banner year! And for once, I'm not being sarcastic." Fred looked at George; both twins winked at the other. "Who'd've thought the war would be good for the funny business?"

"We're fielding more mail-in orders than usual, which is to be expected. But a few Security and Camouflaging Charms, and a family in hiding can at least keep their little rug rats happy!" George leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.

"Our candy line's been a big seller, our defence items are on back order at the moment, and we've developed this new product inspired by this Muggle game — Daphne, you know darts, right?" Fred asked excitedly.

"Yeah. It's extremely popular in Muggle pubs and taverns."

"Well, we've created a spell target board, and the background allows you to hit famous Dark Wizards and Death Eaters throughout history," George said. "We've got the 'Grindelwald' deluxe edition, complete with all his known followers. And in the 'You-Know-Who' version, Bellatrix Lestrange shrieks every time you hit her with a spell."

"She taunts you until you _want _to shut her up, but it's rather therapeutic to get her right between her evil little eyes," Fred continued, a very proud expression on his face. "Getting her voice perfect was key. We took Sirius' mum, mixed it with a lot of banshee, and finished with the sound Crookshanks makes when you step on his tail. And voilà!" He flourished his hand. "Instant Bellatrix!"

Daphne laughed so hard, she had to hold her stomach.

Fred had just reminded Ginny about something. "I can't believe I forgot. Where's Crookshanks?"

As if on cue, a large orange tabby cat jumped up right on Ginny's lap with his bandy legs. He stared at her with his scrunched-up face and she cooed as she scratched behind his ears.

"Crookshanks! Oh, do you like that?" Ginny giggled as the cat stayed on her lap for approximately one minute, and then jumped off the table to accept a saucer of fresh milk from Molly.

"He's been a very valuable addition to the household." Molly said as she put the saucer down on the floor. "We allow him to go outside and chase garden gnomes, but he always has his eye out for possible intruders."

Ginny felt a shiver go up her spine. "And you know this how?"

Molly noticeably paled. "We've had a few Ministry officials make surprise visits every once in a while. Crookshanks alerts us before the wards are ever disturbed."

"That and watching him hiss his little cat heart out at Death Eaters makes for good entertainment." Fred said, winking at the creature.

"He's so damn weird-looking," Daphne muttered, watching him walk towards his drink on the floor. Her eyes widened as Crookshanks twisted his head around and peered at her unnervingly, before bending over to lick the milk.

"Was it just me, or did that thing hear what I said?" Daphne asked the table.

"He's a bizarre one, that's for sure." Fred said, watching the cat drink. "Probably did hear you. George, didn't we reckon he ate about five Extendable Ears when we were living at Sirius' old home?"

"Maybe more like ten. That thing's half Ear by now. So, you're not a cat-lover, Greengrass?"

Daphne wrinkled her nose. "Dogs are so much better. They're not fickle with their affections, you know?"

There was a small hiss behind them. Crookshanks had opened his mouth and made a disapproving noise aimed right at Daphne. He then sauntered over towards Ginny and curled up at her feet, his tail wrapping around her ankle.

He gave Daphne one final hiss and laid his head down.

* * *

The girls alternated with helping Molly with chores and preparing the Burrow for Christmas Eve, which was just a couple of days away. They also tried desperately to find some decent music on the Wireless; the WWN had, for the moment, taken off the air the constant stream of banshee chamber music. In its place were Celestina Warbeck's Christmas tunes.

Daphne realized just how much better Warbeck sounded in comparison.

In the evenings, they would dig out Daphne's old 'casey-tape' player, enchanted by Arthur to play without batteries and to project music around their living room. The Weasleys would listen to the Muggle music that Daphne had given to Arthur last Christmas. There was Van Morrison's Moondance, some early Beatles, and a slow song that Mrs. Weasley had become very fond of—

"Arthur, Arthur! That one song about being with the son of a preacher! I love that one!"

Daphne laughed and leaned over to whisper to Ginny. "Dusty Springfield. That song is like a fine shag on a summer day!"

Ginny wrinkled her face in disgust. "Eurgh! Daphne, those are _my parents_ that're dancing to that!"

She grinned. "Well, you lot had to come into the world one way or another."

"Spontaneous conception, Daphne. Seven times. And that's the story I'm sticking to."

The next morning, Ginny was in her room, making her bed while humming that blasted preacher man song under her breath. Daphne chuckled when she heard her. "See? What did I tell you? Dusty Springfield's addictive." Ginny watched her face as her grin broadened into a smile and she started humming the song herself.

"Didn't you describe it like 'a fine shag on a summer day'?"

"Sure did, Weasley!"

"Ah! So I'll bet you're thinking about Corner and whatever you two got up to the day before we left?"

There was no mistaking Daphne's normally light complexion reddening furiously. "Uh, er, n-no. Not nothin', er, anything . . ." Her voice petered off into a mumble.

"Hm. Someone's suddenly forgotten how to talk." She smirked as Daphne stared daggers at her.

After a few more moments of folding and tucking, Ginny sat down on her bed, this time giving Daphne a genuine, friendly smile. "It's nice that you and Michael are doing well. I'm happy for you." But she couldn't help but think that saying she was truly happy for Daphne and Michael was a bit of a stretch.

Daphne plopped on her bed, directly across from Ginny.

"Thanks, but you're lying."

"Excuse me?"

"Ginny, you're not totally happy about me and Michael. You're missing Harry, which is completely understandable."

Her glare softened into a morose expression. She might as well tell Daphne — it was clear she had already guessed what had been bothering her. "You know, it's Christmas and I've got no idea if he's still alive or hurt. And it's been getting worse since coming back here for the holidays. Now that we're not constantly on guard, worried about getting detentions, whether or not the Carrows're going to Crucio and/or whip us, all I can think about are Harry, Hermione and Ron. Everywhere I look here, something reminds me of them. Ron especially."

"But I really think if something happened to any of them, we'd know about it. The Ministry wouldn't hesitate making sure that we all knew he was Undesirable Number One."

Ginny grunted sadly. "Yeah, maybe. Know what else I've been thinking?"

"No."

"I don't even know if I'm in love with Harry."

"Oh?"

"I know I love him. I finally admitted that to myself," she nudged her head towards Daphne, "when Carrow attacked Neville in Dark Arts. Harry and I were together only for a few weeks, and _wow_! It was _good_. It was fun. No drama, really. We talked, and then we _didn't_ talk, if you know what I mean."

"I do."

"And it worked for us."

"Then Dumbledore died."

"And then Dumbledore died," Ginny flopped backwards on the bed. "And we broke up because he was worried I could be used to get to him. Never mind the fact that my brother's his best friend, and our family's known to be close to him and we'd be used to lure him out if necessary anyway."

Daphne flopped down besides her. "Harry the heroic prat."

Ginny snorted.

"So Weasley, how do you feel now?"

Her eyes floated up to the ceiling. "Million Galleon question. He made me happy. I think about those few weeks that we spent together and I still remember what I felt back then. I see things that remind me of him all throughout the house, all over Hogwarts. And I know this sounds selfish, but—"

She paused.

"What?"

Ginny swallowed. "It's such a girlish thing to say, but I want to be the thing that keeps him going, doing whatever he's doing."

Daphne nodded. "I understand. You hope he's thinking about you, worrying about you, using those memories to continue fighting."

She curled her lip. "It sounds wretched whenever I say it out loud."

"No. It sounds like you want to help him out, even if you can't be with him."

"Despite all that, I don't really know for sure whether I'm in love with him. I love him, absolutely. But do I _love_ him?" She snorted. "It's unrealistic to fall so hard for someone so quickly. But I also feel like I could've. If things had gone differently."

Ginny sniffed a little bit, cursing that her eyes were getting wet. Why the hell did she have to be so bloody sad all the time?

"We just needed a little more time."

* * *

Christmas Eve approached, and the girls awoke to an interesting discovery.

"Ginny!"

Daphne's voice made her jump.

"Ginny! Ginny! Ginny!"

"What?!" The response was a bit harsher than she intended. But she was so bloody exhausted; she didn't get a good night's sleep, thanks to another nightmare.

Ginny turned over in her bed — and right into the Galleon that Daphne was shoving into her face.

"Check yours. I got a message from Neville."

Ginny shot up and grabbed her Galleon. Sure enough, there was a new message on it—

"_Worried about Luna. Azkaban? Keep us posted!"_

They replied, with heavy hearts, that she still hadn't been found nor did they know anything more.

The girls got dressed and headed downstairs to help Molly with chores and cooking. Both of them made disgusted sounds as they heard the roaring snores coming out of Charlie's bedroom.

"Your brother might be a handsome bloke—"

Ginny made a gagging sound. "Ew! Charlie? _Really_?"

"Objectively speaking, he's fit. But, Sweet Circe's Pig Farm, someone needs to put a muting charm on him while he's sleeping."

Ginny flashed an exasperated look at the bedroom and shook her head. "As much as I love Charlie, he's a boar. He's the brother that taught Fred and George about snot shots."

"What're snot shots?"

"You close one nostril and you project as much snot as you can onto a target."

"Gross!"

Ginny cringed. "And he encouraged our Burping Wars. One time, he actually burped about half the Sorting Song from his seventh year. I pity the poor woman who has to clean up after him."

Daphne laughed as she turned and spied his room. "He's funny, though."

"He's a crack-up, but he's spent way too much time with the blokes on the dragon reserves. They get up to ghastly things there."

The girls made their way into the kitchen, Ginny telling Daphne the worst stories about growing up with her brothers.

"—And then Charlie did this thing called 'Dutch Oven'. He'd sneak into Fred and George's bedroom early in the morning; if Bill was around, he'd convince him to come with him, and he'd pull back the covers on the twins' beds, stick his bum out, and—"

"GINEVRA!" Molly shouted. "Honestly, telling Daphne those foul stories about your brothers."

Daphne was clutching her sides as Ginny swept behind her mum and gave her a big kiss. "They're funny stories. Besides, Daphne did ask."

Molly gave her a flat look and nodded towards the living room and dining room table. "Make sure the front rooms are swept up and dusted, and then I'll ask for your help with the puddings. We're expecting some guests tonight."

Her mum didn't offer anything more than that. Although, Ginny thought, since she didn't look outright angry about the visitors, that had to be a sign that their guests weren't going to be Death Eaters or Ministry employees. They cleaned and cooked the entire day. Every once in a while, Molly and the girls would glance at the Weasley family clock, now propped precariously against the counter and cabinets.

Every hand, including Ron's, were still pointed towards "Mortal Peril".

The day took a sour turn when Fred and George popped in for lunch. They had come over wanting to set up a few holiday Wheezes around the house. George had gone upstairs to wake up their noisy brother and Fred delivered some troubling news to the others.

"I think we know what the Ministry's making Xeno do in order to get Luna back." He tossed the latest issue of _The Quibbler _into the middle of the nicely decorated table.

Ginny, Daphne and Molly leaned over to look at the picture — and gasped. Staring back at them was a blinking, bespectacled picture of Harry Potter, with the words, "_UNDESIRABLE NUMBER ONE!!_" flashing across it, as well as the notice for the hefty reward to be given for turning Harry Potter over to the Ministry.

"Happy Christmas wizarding world! And please turn over to us the only hope you have to destroy You-Know-Who! Cheers!" Fred sneered at the headline.

Molly shook her head. "Seems like even the best of us has a price. That his is Luna is understandable. Oh, it's just unfortunate!"

"That bastard!" Ginny spat.

"There also goes the last bastion of free printed press." Fred muttered with disgust. He looked pointedly at the two girls. "No more telling the truth about the Ministry, Harry Potter, and Muggle-borns, eh?"

Daphne's leaned over to Ginny, her voice nervous, "Looks like we did the Fidelius right in the nick of time." She nodded solemnly in response.

"Oi!" George's voice bellowed from the stairwell. "Everyone. Behold the sleeping dragon awaketh!" He took a deep bow as Charlie Weasley stumbled in, bleary-eyed and yawning, into the kitchen, followed by George who was waving his hand in front of his face as if he had just smelled something rank.

Charlie swatted him. "Stuff it, prat. You don't smell exactly like flowers and sunshine in the morning." He walked up to the dining table, scratching his chest, his fingernails raking over a large tattoo of a Ukrainian Ironbelly's torso. The tail wrapped around his right shoulder, the body swept across his chest, bending around his waist. Its large head, mouth wide open and filled with pointed teeth, sat low on his hips. And Charlie's back was covered in fire coming from its mouth, an explosion of red, yellow, and orange swirls and waves.

Daphne let out a low whistle. "Wow. That's a tattoo!"

"Oh for goodness sake!" Molly slammed her wooden spoon on the counter. "When are you going to stop desecrating your body like this, Charlie?"

"When I stop working with dragons, Mum." He winked at her as he snagged a sandwich. "I've got to find something to cover up all my scars and burns so you don't worry about your precious baby doing his dangerous job."

Molly silently fumed as she set a glass of water in front of him.

"Merlin! How many is that now?" Ginny asked with disbelief. "Like twenty or something?"

"Try five, Gingersnap." He pointed to his various tattooed body parts. "The one on my arm here," he held up his right forearm, "one on my right shin. This large one, and two in places that I can't show either of you girls."

Daphne spluttered into her pumpkin juice.

The evening approached. Charlie, Fred and George departed after lunch, only offering that they would be back very soon. Molly, Daphne and Ginny finished cooking and cleaning. They laid out what felt like a hundred different dishes on their table; at one point, Ginny feared the old wood would crack under the weight.

"Mum, are we feeding a small army?"

"Or Hagrid?" Daphne eyed the table, astonished.

They soon got their answer when Charlie's Patronus, a Ukrainian Ironbelly, soared right up to them as they finished setting the table.

"_All of our family's been gathered. We'll be there in five!_"

Ginny was completely mystified as to who "their family" was.

"Mum, is Percy coming home by chance?"

She immediately regretted asking the question when she spied her mum's stricken face. "Unfortunately," Molly said, her voice barely breaking, "Percy still hasn't talked to us. We know he's okay, because your father and Bill do see him, but . . ." She shook her head and finished setting the table, pausing only once to wipe her eyes.

Before they knew it, the pops of Apparating wizards echoed from the woods surrounding the Burrow. Crookshanks bolted outside. The witches watched as he scurried on his short, stubby legs right up to the edge of the wards. They could barely hear him hiss into the darkness . . .

And then Ginny saw them.

A group of freckled, red-haired wizards, interspersed with ones covered in dark robes and hoods, broke through the wards. Leading the pack was Arthur Weasley. Charlie and Fred and George flanked the line.

"Mum? I know our family's big, but it's not _that _big. And where're Bill and Fleur?"

"Unfortunately, they couldn't make it, as much as I wanted them to. But we managed to gather as many of the surviving Weasleys as we could." She was smiling as she waved at their guests.

They walked inside, and the line mixed with hooded figures and freckled redheads followed the women back into the house. As soon as the door shut behind them, Arthur strode to the front of the room and faced their guests.

Ginny and Daphne stared at each other. "Do you know any of them?"

Ginny shook her head. "Never seen these people before in my life!"

Arthur clapped and rubbed his hands together. "All right. You lot checked the security and privacy charms around the Burrow?"

Fred and George both nodded. Charlie held his thumbs up.

"Well then, I guess it's time for introductions." Arthur grinned broadly at the new visitors.

There was a glimmer in the room, like water evaporating off a hot surface. Ginny and Daphne watched, their eyes bulging, as the guests seemed to change behind the rippling air. The unfamiliar faces of supposed long-lost relatives changed, their faces getting a little darker, their hair changing colour, and their bodies altering, shrinking shorter and growing taller, leaner and broader in shape.

Two figures who had been wearing cloaks and walking with limps like crones and hags dropped their hoods and smiled at the Weasleys.

And a witch whose hair changed from a fiery red to the most gaudy, brightest shade of fuchsia Ginny had ever seen waved at all of them.

"No!" Ginny screamed, her mouth dropping open, unable to say anything in her shocked but thrilled state.

There stood, in all their glory, the various members of the Order and friends of the Weasleys. Remus and Tonks, who was going into her fifth month of her pregnancy and was glowing so much she could've lit up all of London, Kingsley Shacklebolt standing next to a man that resembled him, a couple of older witches and wizards that Ginny didn't know.

She squealed even louder when she spied Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell.

"GODRIC!" She ran over to Katie and Angelina and threw her arms around them as the others shook hands and embraced each other.

"What are you guys doing here?" Ginny asked after she broke from them. "Lee?" She hugged her brothers' best friend. "Lee! I can't believe it!"

"Good to see you too, Gin!" He smiled at her.

But when she got a better look at her old friends, she noticed scars and bruises all over their faces and arms. Lee was missing a tooth, and there was a very prominent scar that ran from his cheek to his ear. Katie's arm was bandaged and Angelina's right cheek and ear were burned rather badly.

"Merlin! What in the world happened to you guys?"

"Oh this?" Angelina said, pointing nonchalantly at her face and smirking. "You should see the other bloke!"

Lee grinned. "I think that's the first time I've ever seen a Death Eater cry."

"What do you expect? She nailed him right in the crotch with a good Bludgeoning Hex!" Katie looked at Angelina triumphantly as Lee grimaced.

"You three look like you've been through a war zone!"

Lee stared at Ginny. "Er, we have been. Didn't you hear? We've got a bit of a war going on."

"I know, I know, I just didn't expect to see you guys so beat up."

Angelina regarded her other friends. "Honestly, Alicia's more banged up than we are."

"And Oliver would've been here, but he didn't want to leave her alone for the holidays," Katie said with a wink.

"Oliver and Alicia? For how long?"

"They haven't started anything yet," George came over, rolling his eyes, "Oliver's always been a prat about girls. Bloke thinks Quaffle means Quaffle, when there's actually a whole variety of meanings of the word!"

"Like _what, _Weasley?" Angelina looked like she was about to hex him, depending on his answer.

"Well, I can think of a _couple_ of meanings, Ange." George waggled his eyebrows at her as Fred shook Lee's hand and wrapped Angelina and Katie in big hugs.

"He means breasts, Johnson."

"Yes, I got that!" She playfully punched Fred as Ginny laughed at the group of friends.

"Wotcher, Ginny."

Ginny twisted around and yelped. "Tonks!" She gave her friend a warm embrace.

"Oh, careful there." She patted her stomach. "Don't squish the peanut."

"That's right!" Ginny exclaimed, her hand clamping over her mouth. "How much longer?"

"We're due in April." Lupin bent down and gave Ginny a kiss on the top of her head. "Happy Christmas, Ginny." His smile fell a little. "Are you all right? How is Hogwarts go—"

Ginny cut him off with a hand. "Uh-uh. It's Christmas Eve. I just want to think happy things tonight."

Lupin smiled broadly. "That we can do."

Dinner was a boisterous affair, even though the Burrow was stretched to the limit. Kingsley, who had been on the run ever since the safe-house, had come with his brother Hermes, the man who had helped create the emergency Floo connections that were used by the Order members. The others that Ginny didn't know had various duties within the Order: former Aurors who were now helping the Order with the safe-houses, a couple of witches and wizards who aided in fighting dark wizards and creatures coming into England, ready to join You-Know-Who's ranks.

Bowls of food Floated across the table to waiting hands, and pitchers of drinks poured out into goblets, seemingly of their own accord.

"Cheers! To this one day," Arthur said, his voice booming over the party, "to making this Christmas a special one." His voice mellowed. "Our friends, our families, whether you are here, whether you are away, and whether you are watching us from the Great Beyond—"

He lifted his glass higher in the air.

"Happy Christmas, everyone!"

"Cheers!" Sips and small sniffles punctuated the chorus of exclamations. They sat their drinks down and the conversations turned to far funnier, sometimes rowdier matters.

Charlie was entertaining Arthur, Kingsley and Hermes with an inappropriate story of how he and several others on the dragon reserve helped with a very messy and dangerous egg-laying involving a female Longhorn.

"I'm serious! You've never lived until you see half your arm disappear right up a female dragon's—"

"CHARLES SEPTIMUS WEASLEY!!" Molly shouted over a din filled with guffaws and "Ew's!"

"What, Mum? There's medical validity in this conversation."

Lupin and Tonks distracted Molly by asking her a couple of questions about magical pregnancy and the birthing process.

Ginny and Daphne were trying to fend off the twins' and Lee's attempts to pester them. Ginny was about to properly introduce Daphne to the other two Gryffindor girls, when George cut in, doing it for her.

"Ah, Angie, Katie, I don't believe you've had the immense pleasure of meeting our favourite Slytherin."

Daphne glared at him. "Prat!"

"Oh, don't worry about her," George waved his hand at Daphne and smirked. "She doesn't bite."

"Most of the time." She turned to the Gryffindors. "They may have already told you," she said in a low voice, "but I'm Daphne Greengrass." She stuck her hand out across the table, barely missing a big pile of roasted potatoes. Angelina paused for a moment, apparently slightly hesitant about shaking her hand. But it passed, and she shook her head, extending her own hand to greet Daphne.

"Well, this is a first. Shaking a Slytherin's hand, and not a Quidditch match in sight. Angelina Johnson."

"Daphne's all right," Lee said through a mouthful of potatoes. He stabbed at his slice of meat, ripping it apart with his knife, and winked at the Slytherin. "Especially when she's giving the twins hell."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Those two are the bane of my existence!"

Angelina smirked. "Well, I can give you some ideas for revenge if you ever get fed up with those two idiots."

Daphne's eyes shifted over to the twins who were both engaged in a deep conversation about the shop. She turned back and nodded. "Hell - _yes_!"

"Count me in too," Katie added. "I've made it my life's achievement to give them as many problems as they've given me."

"We are talking about the twins, right?" Ginny threw her two Knuts into the conversation. "Because I'm bloody game."

"We _know_ you're always game." Angelina said, grinning.

At some point in the evening, Charlie ended up next to Hermes at the Weasleys' antique piano. It seemed like they were singing Christmas carols at first, but when one listened closer to the lyrics—

"_DECK MY BALLS WITH BOUGHS OF HOLLY!! FA-LA-LA-LA-LAH, LA LA LA LAAAH!!_"

Lupin laughed and took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "Really. I thought Charlie could come up with a more clever variation."

"Chuckles always hammed it up for a crowd. One time, he and his Gryffindor mates lost a bet with me and a couple of other 'Puffs on a Quidditch game."

Ginny, Daphne, and even Lupin stared at Tonks, waiting for her to answer. "And?" both girls inquired simultaneously.

"They had to run starkers past McGonagall's office, through the Great Hall at dinner, and all around the courtyards and pond!"

"Ew! Yuck!" Ginny gagged. Daphne gave Charlie a shifty look, apparently ogling his lower body.

"Nice."

Ginny swatted her. "Greengrass, that's my brother!"

"I know. Still nice."

Tonks chortled. "Daphne, you need to cut back on the firewhiskey." The Slytherin frowned into her glass as she continued with her story. "They got detention for a month, although we teased Charlie that McGonagall only wanted to monitor them to get another glimpse of his bait and tackle."

Daphne and Lupin both laughed hysterically. Ginny shivered. Behind them, Charlie and Hermes started another immature variation of a Christmas carol.

"Mum'll kill him. She hates it when he does that to otherwise innocent songs."

"Ginny," Daphne said, pointing across the room, "I don't think your mum's exactly minding."

Across the room, Molly was laughing as she tried to fend off Arthur under a sprig of mistletoe. Molly lost, but she clearly didn't mind as her husband pulled her close to him, kissed her, and started swaying, dancing with his wife with a closed-eye blissful countenance on his face.

Ginny smiled at the moment reluctantly. "It's so wrong that I find that adorable." She shook her head as she took another sip of her drink, letting the festivities wash over her, allowing her to forget, for one night, the war, Hogwarts, and her sleepless nights.


	41. Chapter 40: The Phoenix Safe House

**A/N: **This and another chapter at the Burrow, and then we're back to Hogwarts for fun and games, all involving various Unforgivables. I'll note there was a wee bit of inspiration from one of my favorite authors, Lady Altair, and her story _Cauterize_. If you haven't read that story, do so. After reading this chapter, of course.

Everything is property of JK Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 40: The Phoenix Safe-House**

"_Such a sweet girl you are, Ginevra. Pity they ignore you—"_

Ginny moaned, her fingers digging into her bed.

"_They don't ignore me, Voldemort!"_

"_I know you, little Ginny. You may be sixteen, but you're still that little first year . . . their little Gingersnap. The stupid, weak runt of the Weasleys—"_

"No." she said, her voice shaky and muffled, trapped between waking and unconsciousness.

"_No? Why do they not tell you things? Because you'll worry that pretty little head of yours. And they're right, Ginevra. You're the weakest one of all."_

She remained sleeping, but her head jerked to the left; she felt the cold trail Tom left running his finger down her face.

"_Get away from me!"_

She gasped; she could feel him choke her, his cold hand squeezing her throat. She could see his face even though she knew her eyes were shut, his face that had been so handsome and charming.

But the hand that was choking her was pale, cold and clammy. It dug into her skin, pressing her windpipe shut. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't scream for help.

_Godric_!

She was all alone, and no one was coming into the Chamber to save her this time. No phoenix, no sword—

No Hermione. No Harry or Ron.

"_St-stop it, Tom! Let me go!"_

"_Never!"_

She gasped, her arms outstretched, trying to push him away as he brought her closer to him.

"_You are weak, Ginevra. I made you do things to your friends, your classmates, and you couldn't stop me."_

"_No."_

"_I had power over you. You ss-ssserved me!"_

Ginny flinched as a forked tongue flickered out of dream-Tom's mouth. Her eyes were squeezed shut; she couldn't see him, but he was still everywhere — inside of her, outside, all around her.

She couldn't escape him.

"_You're nuh- . . . nothing, Tom!"_

"_I'm everything, girl! And I will own you! Forever!"_

"NO!" Ginny screamed and shot up in her bed. Sweat poured down her face and arms, and she loosened her fists from her bed.

"Ginny?" Daphne reached over and tapped the lamp with her wand, brightening the room. "Are you all right?"

She took a couple of breaths and rubbed her forehead. "Y-yeah. I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

However, the Slytherin threw off her bed sheets and made her way over to her. "What's going on? You've been having some really bad nightmares."

"Nothing I can't handle," Ginny snapped. Daphne furrowed her brow, but she didn't get up.

"Is it the Carrows? D-did," Daphne stuttered, gulping before she could continue. "Did Amycus do something to you at school that you haven't told anyone about? I mean, I wouldn't put it past him—"

Ginny stared at her, horrified. "Great Hera's tits no! It's a long story, and it has nothing to do with things going on at school right now. Just let me be for a few moments and I'll be all right."

Daphne regarded her sceptically; finally she nodded. "All right. I know that you can't really talk about stuff until you're ready to." She shrugged. "I'm here, and I won't say anything to anyone, whatever you tell me."

She managed a feeble smile. "Thanks. I'll just go and get ready since I'm already up." Ginny threw the bed covers off of her, grabbing her robe. "Busy day today, visiting Phoenix."

"Yeah. I'll get ready too. Ginny?"

"What?"

Daphne grinned, although it could not mask her apprehension. "Happy Christmas."

* * *

The trip to Phoenix safe-house, although a long one thanks to multiple stops as the Weasleys Apparated from village to village to secure Apparition points, was fortunately uneventful. The only difficulty presented was the last leg of the trip, as the family had to warm a path through a thick layer of snow, all the way to the outermost wards surrounding the structure.

Phoenix had a magically expanded interior; from the outside, one would've thought it the last surviving scraps of a farmhouse that had been all but destroyed in a devastating fire. For the witches and wizards that worked for the Order, the safe-house appeared to be a modest-sized building, but nothing special. When Ginny and Daphne had visited it over the summer, the house had been rather bare — some old couches, a couple of tables, a stove, sink and larder as well as enough plumbing to make sure the occupants weren't wanting for facilities. No one had bothered to hang any pictures; the walls had had a stark and cold appearance.

As soon as they stepped into the interior, the girls realized the safe-house had changed substantially since then.

"Merlin!" Ginny exclaimed, at the same time that Daphne whistled.

In front of their eyes, Phoenix exploded with Christmas spirit. There was red, green and gold everywhere for the holidays. Pictures hung on the walls, the subjects inside waving madly at the festivities. There were huge magical drawings on the walls, of families smiling and hugging each other; Ginny could barely make out the words written next to them.

Before they could even walk into the main room, several colourful starbursts greeted their eyes. A Whiz-Bang chorus flew by them in a bright, sparkly blur. As the Whizzes whistled past, they reached a spot directly in front of the Weasleys, and, with a loud _BOOM_, they exploded harmlessly into the audience below.

"_Happy Christmas, Phoenix_!" The words sparkled and hung in the air in front of them, flanked by a large gold "_JOY!_" and a huge silver "_CELEBRATE!_"

Daphne whispered to Ginny, "This is approaching frightening levels of sentimentality, especially for the twins."

"You don't have to tell me. I mean, it's sweet and all—"

Children tugged on their parents' robes, pointing up at the glittering images that floated above their heads. Next to the letters, things that resembled small cherubs danced in the air, playing trumpets, their wings fluttering, shimmering like stars as all Whiz-Bangs do.

"Fred and George've outdone themselves!" Molly sighed.

Suddenly, the cherubs lined up, turned around, and stuck their bottoms out at the crowd. The fireworks spluttered loudly, and from their angle, the Weasleys and Daphne saw the sparkling cherubs blow the crowd raspberries while wiggling their bums at them.

To top it off, a series of new explosions, in gorgeous jewel-toned colours, burst forth from the cherubs' buttocks. The safe-house erupted in hysterical laughter. Molly's shoulder's sagged. "Oh for the love of Merlin! They couldn't just leave it nice and simple, could they?"

They bustled into the main room of the house, and immediately, Arthur, Molly and Charlie were swarmed with hugs and handshakes of the inhabitants.

"Oh you must be Ginevra!" an old witch smiling sweetly at Ginny with a toothless grin. "Your family talks about you all the time!"

"All bad, of course," Charlie whispered in her ear; she elbowed him in the gut.

"Ginny," Molly said, beckoning her over to her, "I want you to help me with something. Daphne, can you go with Arthur and Charlie?"

The girls separated. Ginny walked with her mum towards the kitchens to help prepare the big Christmas feast. There were a number of witches and wizards already hard at work, organizing the tables and dishes, chopping and cooking food, stopping every once in a while to play with some kids. She let herself be greeted and hugged by several older witches, hoping that her she was able to at least fake being in a good mood. Not getting a proper night's sleep had made Ginny rather cranky. However, in the spirit of the holidays, she plastered a smile on her face and did what was asked of her.

As she was tying on her apron, she spied the large wall mural that she had first seen upon entering the safe-house. Looking behind her, making sure her mum was preoccupied in a deep and animated conversation with another witch, Ginny tiptoed over to get a better look at the painting.

There were several drawings of witches and wizards, some playing with their families, others flying around on their brooms, or casting spells. They were lovingly detailed; a lot of time and care had gone into their creation. Ginny reached out to touch a drawing, watching it move under her fingertips.

She looked over to her left. One particular picture caught her eye: a broad-shouldered man with blond hair. The artist had even managed to capture the look of his hair rustling in the wind. He held what looked like a Muggle football under his arm; Ginny felt a pang in her chest. Dean. His love of West Ham football; had it not been for him, she would never have known what the drawing was supposed to be. And he was still out there, alive or . . .

Next to the man in the mural was a beautiful woman. She was smiling and taking hold of his arm. He kept leaning over to kiss her on the lips.

There was something about them that seemed familiar to Ginny, something about the man that made Ginny think she knew them.

"He sort of looks like—" Her eyes drifted below them. She felt her chest hitch.

"Terry."

Under the painted feet of the kissing couple was written: "_Dorothy and Richard Boot. Loving Parents, Wife, Husband, Witch and Wizard. We will always remember you_."

Her chin trembled, and Ginny quickly shook her head and wiped at her eyes, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She spun around — and gasped in shock.

"Hiya Ginny!"

"_Colin?!_ Merlin, Colin!" Ginny jumped up and scooped Colin Creevey into a suffocating Weasley hug.

He laughed. "It's good to see you!"

The tears that had almost spilled out remembering the night of Terry's parents' death now poured forth as she hugged him, overjoyed over this unexpected reunion. She could feel Colin's camera squishing between them, but he still picked her up and twirled her around anyways.

"Happy Christmas, Gin," he said, after finally setting her back down on the ground.

"I can't believe it!" She thought her face would break apart, as big as she was smiling. She gave Colin a kiss on his cheek. "Happy Christmas."

"I should say so," he said, laughing. His eyes looked just past her head and he nodded towards the painted wall. "I see you found our memorial."

Ginny turned back to the wall, her eyes now seeing the entire wall. "It's beautiful," she said, her voice filled with reverence as her eyes passed over the image of Terry's parents, finding pictures of others, all with names listed just beneath them, all with dates attached to their names. And two dates following each one, all ending in 1997.

"These were all the people killed in the safe-house attack in November, aren't they?"

Colin nodded solemnly. "There's a Muggle-born artist here, Laurel Holloway. She found a few others that have a real talent with drawing, and they finished this a few weeks ago." Colin reached out and touched the picture of Terry's parents, smiling sadly as he did so. Bringing his hand up to his mouth, he cleared his throat. "It's great to see you, Gin."

She took his arm and they walked further away from the kitchens; Ginny hadn't heard her mum yell for her, and this was her opportunity to catch up with Colin, whom she hadn't seen since June.

"This place was bone bare when Daphne and I were up here in the summer. Now there's pictures, decorations and families everywhere."

"Well, the pictures are my fault. They didn't have an unofficial safe-house photographer until I came along."

Ginny laughed. "Of course! It makes so much sense." Her eyes gazed over the portraits of witches and wizards cleaning and decorating Phoenix. Several showed groups of younger school-aged children sitting around some adults as they waved their wands in front of them, teaching them magic, same as they would've learned at Hogwarts. There were other pictures showing the safe-house denizens playing, laughing, eating.

Further down, there was a series of portraits that must've been taken following the attack in November. Painful images filled the frames, witches and wizards snapped with their mouths open as if they were screaming. Some crying silently as another embraced them. No sound came from them.

Ginny realized that none of them were moving.

She swallowed, holding back a wave of emotion that rolled over her. "These're so sad, Colin."

"They are. That's the intention. The ones there," he said, gesturing to the haunting pictures of people grieving, "I took those with what Muggles call a view camera. A large, accordion-looking device that doesn't run on batteries or electricity."

They stopped in front of the row.

"People thought that we needed to document everything that happened here, the good and the bad. Look at it like a book, you know. Here are the sad times—" His fingers pointed to the pictures of people grieving. "But afterwards, you move towards the better ones." Colin's hands swept towards his right, back to the photographs that moved. He looked at Ginny with a weary brow. "Those were the hardest days, the ones following the attack." He traced along the face of an old woman, clutching a set of wizarding robes close to her body. "Sometimes, you don't need movement in the pictures to actually see what's happening. I think these speak for themselves."

"I agree. They're powerful." She stared at the work, marvelling at how well Colin seemed to capture everyday life at the safe-house.

"Ginny, mind if I ask you something?"

"Ask away."

He lowered his head and whispered, " What's going on at Hogwarts?"

Ginny shook her head. "That's the last thing I want to talk about."

"Gin, it's not hard to know that something's up. It's been getting around."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Like hell you do."

Ginny recoiled slightly; she hadn't ever heard Colin sound like this before.

"Everyone knows that the Carrows have been dealing with pro-Potter vandalism, and that you, Neville and Seamus got into trouble because of the sword of Gryffindor. And_,_ just recently, I've found myself suddenly unable to say the names of _all _the members of the D.A. back in our fourth year. Hmm," he hummed, tapping his chin with his finger. "It's almost as if someone put some strong concealment charm on the identities of some of the members. Listen: Fred and George Weasley were in Dumbledore's Army. Hey! That worked without any problems. But I try to say Gh- . . ."

He took a deep breath. "G-G-G-Gh- . . . Nuh-Ne-Ne-Nuh—" Colin thrust his hands out, exasperated. "See? I can't say anyone else's names that were in it. It just won't come out. Although," he said, pointing to his head, "they're all up here."

Ginny sucked in a breath and shut her eyes. Of all the things she loved about Colin Creevey, his persistence and stubbornness about certain things were none of them.

"Colin—"

"I'm not asking for an explanation. But I know something's going on. I know that the D.A.'s still going strong, even if I can't say who's in it anymore. I'm stuck in here. So's Dennis. And all we want to know is what everyone's up to. And if there's anyway to get to you guys. When the time's right."

"How can I tell you that? I'll be at school. You'll be here."

"Well, do you have any _money_ on you?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Like _Galleons_?"

"All I need is one," Colin replied with a smirk.

She made a grunting sound as she dug around in her pockets until she found it. "Is this what you're talking about?" She held up her D.A. Galleon. Colin smiled proudly as he observed it shimmering beneath the lights of the safe-house.

"Yeah. You still use it?"

"I do."

"But you can get another?"

She shook her head slowly. Ginny really didn't like where this was going.

"Ginny," Colin said, his voice pleading, "it would mean everything to me. I just want to know what's going on. At some point, I'm going to leave here—"

"You can't!" she exclaimed, horrified. "You're safe here!"

"I'm not safe as long as Death Eaters have taken over our world! _My _world! Ginny," he said, holding his hand out, "you're pure-blood."

"And a blood traitor! _And _Undesirable Number One's ex-girlfriend!"

"But you're out there. You can still live a normal life if they win."

"Colin, what I've got right now is anything but a normal life."

He swept his hand around. "Look at this. This might be safe and cosy, but I feel trapped." Colin stared at her, his eyes defiant. "I need to be on the front lines. Not just for me, but for Dennis, my family. All the other Muggle-borns out there!"

Ginny stared at her Galleon for what might've been forever.

(_You hate it when they tell _you_ you can't fight._)

(_Why deny him the same opportunity?_)

(_Weasley, if you don't give him your Galleon, he'll only find another way to join the fight. Or he'll run away, or—_)

She took a deep breath, feeling it hitch in her chest. "If I give you this and you use it to join us and something happens to you, I won't be able to forgive myself."

"If something happens to me, I'll find you and you can tell me you told me so!"

"A-and what if you d-die?" She could barely get out the last word.

Fear flickered across Colin's face. It lasted for only a few seconds before a smile appeared. "Then I'll haunt you so you can tell me, 'I told you so!' and you'll simply have to forgive yourself. Is that a deal?" He extended his hand out to Ginny.

She paused and pressed her Galleon into her fist. She held it in front of her, her thumb holding it against her palm. "It's a deal."

Her eyes watering, Ginny shook his hand, leaving the Galleon planted inside his.

* * *

Daphne couldn't help but smile at the sight before her. There was a Christmas tree, not as big as the ones at Hogwarts, nor as decorated, but it was beautiful. The ornaments were simple, and the little Christmas Spirit Cherubs that had caused so many problems at school were looking around the house, smiling and batting their eyes at the overflow of happiness in the room. A few of them were dreamily playing their tiny harps and one kept throwing fake snow everywhere.

"Dad, when's the next planned transport?"

"Probably sometime before the first, Charlie."

"Well, if you need any help, I'll be here until the start of January."

He smiled at his son and clasped his shoulder. "That would be good, Charlie. Much appreciated."

He grinned at Arthur, as he barely missed a whole group of kids chasing after a boy holding a small broom over his head.

"Whoa there!" Charlie swerved as the children streamed around him. A tall man with a beard and glasses was running after them.

"Matthew!"

The boy with the broom stopped running and turned around. "Yes sir?" His voice was soft and humble; he clearly knew he was in trouble.

"What did we say about running in the safe-house?"

"'Re not to run in the safe-house."

"And what were you going to do with the broom?"

The boy looked at him, his face pleading with the man. "All I wanted to do was find a small spot and fly it. I was gonna stay real low, I swear!"

The man held his hand out, bending his fingers rapidly. "Give it here."

The boy waddled over, hesitant and pouting. "Yes sir." He reluctantly handed over the broom and spun around to run after his friends.

Arthur chuckled as he watched the children scamper off. "Happy Christmas John. You look like you've got the whole situation under control."

John, the man with the beard, grinned and shook his hand. "Happy Christmas to you, Arthur. I thought I was done with being a dad when Michael left for Hogwarts. But it sort of came in handy dealing this lot."

The mention of Michael caught Daphne's attention. She looked closer at the man with the beard; he was tall and slender, and his longish brown hair was peppered with patches of grey. His glasses kept sliding down his nose, which reminded her of Harry. Otherwise, there was a resemblance to her boyfriend. She smiled as she thought about him.

"Oh, do you have a moment? I wanted to introduce you to a couple of people."

Arthur Weasley's voice snapped Daphne out of her trance. She was even more surprised when he held out a hand towards her and beckoned her to come over. She walked cautiously towards the two men, looking back at Charlie who only shrugged.

Arthur slapped Charlie's shoulder. "John, this is my son, Charlie."

"Oh! From the dragon reserves, eh?" He held out his hand and Charlie shook it heartily. "We love hearing about Romania from Molly and Arthur. After all this is over, we might take a trip out into the Eastern European magical villages. We've heard it's beautiful out there."

He smiled. "Cheers! We love having people come and look at the dragon reserves. It's an extraordinary educational experience, seeing the animals live in a natural setting."

John smiled as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. "You just said the magical words. No one values an educational experience more than myself."

"And last, but definitely not least." Arthur put his hand on Daphne's back. "This is the girl who's been staying with us for the past several months. May I introduce to you Miss Daphne Greengrass?"

The man's face instantly changed as he regarded her. "You're Daphne?" he asked, almost as a whisper.

"Er, yeah."

He didn't move; he could only stare at her. She was starting to feel a little nervous and uncomfortable with John's reaction. "Merlin! Daphne, we've got a lot of questions for you. H-hold on . . . er, for a minute, please." He seemed flustered, barely able to string two cohesive words together.

She remained standing and gaped at the man she had barely just met. "Have I gone mental, or is he acting like he already knows me?"

"It's not just you." Charlie nudged his head in front of him. John had run over to a woman who was squatting next to the Christmas tree, putting some more decorations on the bottom branches.

"Dad," Charlie whispered, "what's going on?"

Arthur flashed smiles at Daphne and Charlie but said nothing.

"Sh-she's here?"

Daphne was starting to get very anxious now. She could hear the woman's question, almost an awed-like gasp, from a couple of metres away. John helped her up, their faces nervous and excited.

John and the woman walked back towards them slowly; he kept his arm behind the woman's back. She was willowy in shape, wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a scarf wrapped around her head. The tips of her brunette hair peeked from under it, grazing past her chin. Daphne spied the woman's bright orange shirt; printed on it was a faded sketch of Robert Plant holding a microphone, roaring into it.

"John, Sarah." Arthur extended his hand out to Daphne. "This is Daphne Greengrass. Daphne, this is John and Sarah Corner."

She caught her breath. "C-Corner?" she asked feebly. Her eyes flitted between Arthur and Michael's mum and dad.

"You're a friend of Michael's, right?" Sarah's question was so easy, so direct; Daphne had an answer for her, but all she could do was stare and gape.

(_Michael's parents?_)

(_They're Michael's parents_.)

(_Say something you nitwit!_)

This was completely new to her. She had never met any boy's parents. Well, she had never had a real boyfriend. She was trying desperately to think of words, ones that didn't feel fake and cloying, as well as ones that would reveal to these two apparently nice and normal folks that she had seen their only son completely naked.

Finally, after feeling Charlie elbow her sharply in the back, Daphne managed a nod. "Y-yeah. Michael and I are friends."

"Well," Sarah said, laughing awkwardly to her husband. "I suppose you're probably _more_ than friends."

(_Oh Merlin!_)

(_PleasedontbeLegilimens! PleasedontbeLegilimens! Pleasedontbe—_)

Sarah shut her eyes briefly, as if trying to gather her thoughts. "What I mean is that he talked about you. A lot. Over the holidays, before we came here and in his letters back home to us last year. And he saw you at the, um . . ." she gave a little nod to Arthur. "Your twins' joke shop. Over the summer."

"We wanted to know if Mike's doing all right," John added.

"And Anthony. And Terry!" Sarah exclaimed. "Oh goodness, poor Terry. What he's going through a-after . . . " Sarah averted her eyes and pressed her fingers against her mouth. Her husband took hold of her shoulders, giving her a gentle rub. After a few moments, she nodded and turned back towards the group.

"S-sorry," she said, trying to smile despite the fact that her eyes were watering. Her hand fluttered in front of her face. She spoke softly. "It's still really fresh, what happened. Every time we think about Michael, we think about Terry and how he's doing."

"Uh, Dad. Why don't we check on Mum?"

"Good idea, Charlie. Daphne, you'll be fine here?" Arthur gave her a nod; she took it to mean that she should stay right where she was.

As she was practically frozen with anxiety, it wasn't hard to do.

"Go on," she said, managing a smile. She watched them walk back towards the kitchen across the safe-house, and she turned back to the Corners. They all took a seat on the couch behind them, Daphne keeping her hands on her knees, squeezing them as if she could rid herself of this anxiety by the simple motion of flexing her fingers.

She saw Michael's mum staring at a spot on her jumper. Looking down, Daphne realized with a start that she was looking at the rather conspicuous Slytherin blazon attached to her top.

Her heart sank; Daphne decided to start a conversation before either of Michael's parents could mention something disapproving of her House. Or of her seeing their son.

"Mrs. Corner—"

She blinked and met Daphne's eyes. "P-please, call me Sarah."

"Feel free to call me John," his dad said with a smile. "_Mister_ Corner's my father."

"Okay." Daphne cleared her throat. "Michael's fine, since the last time I saw him."

(_When we shagged like little bunnies._)

She could feel herself blushing furiously.

"Has he gotten into trouble at school? We heard about what they did to Terry—"

"No, Mr — er, John. He's stayed out of trouble. Terry was bad off for a while. Understandably, of course. Michael tried to stay out of his way, giving Terry the space he needed. But they made up, shortly before Christmas."

John let out a breath, clearly relieved. He grinned at his wife. "Are they together? With the Goldsteins?"

"Yeah. There was no way they were going to leave Terry at Hogwarts without them."

The talk started slow, with Daphne filling the Corners in on the past term in a general sense. She left out the more horrifying details and tried to include somewhat more entertaining stories that didn't involve her doing very dirty things to their son.

"He plays his guitar whenever he can. He's played it for me a couple of times."

John kissed his wife's hand. "And the tradition lives on."

"Michael said it was your guitar," Daphne said to Sarah.

"It's one of them," his mum replied. "What can I say? It's a hobby of mine."

"So you taught him to play?"

Sarah nodded. "I did. I was thrilled when he discovered he could actually sing too."

The comment made Daphne smile. She could feel her anxiety lifting. She canted her head as she remembered the day Michael serenaded her on his bed in the Ravenclaw boys' dormitory.

(_You said you love him._)

(_So not like a Slytherin._)

Her face fell. She wondered what Michael's parents thought about their son dating a Slytherin girl. Or maybe she didn't. She knew one thing; she wasn't about to bring it up unless they did.

"Daphne," Sarah said, interrupting her thoughts, "Arthur mentioned you and Mike wrote each other letters over the summer. I remember before we had to leave, he was so insistent about contacting you. Reaching you, regardless of the risks. When he gets an idea in his head, you really can't talk him out of it."

Daphne chuckled softly. "I've sort of realized that."

"You know, I always did feel Michael was a bit of the Romantic," John added. "Not just in love, but his emotions, his responses to both the horrific and the sublime. His affinity for music was a big clue." John kissed the top of his wife's head.

"Yeah. Wonder where he got his Romantic notions from, hm?" She smirked at him and turned back to Daphne. "Ravenclaw men. They might have intelligence and wit, but they all seem to have been touched with the heart of a poet. They let their emotions and feelings get the better of them."

Daphne felt a lump in her throat as she watched them hold hands.

Sarah was just about to say something else, but the soft fall of approaching footsteps signalled someone coming. Daphne spun around on the couch and saw Ginny approaching them, rather hesitantly. To Daphne's alarm, her face was red, as if she had been crying.

"Ginny? You all right?"

She nodded and gave her a watery smile. "Y-yeah."

And right next to her was—

"Holy s-stuffing!" Daphne caught herself just before the swearword escape from her lips. Cursing like a Slytherin in front of Michael's parents seemed like a horrible idea. She jumped up and ran over to her old blackmailing partner-in-crime. "I can't believe you're here, Colin!"

He laughed. "Yeah. Can't believe _you're _living with the Weasleys."

She smacked him. "Prat."

Colin nodded to the Corners. "Hiya, John, Sarah! Happy Christmas, yeah?"

"Happy Christmas to you too, Colin," John said, he and his wife smiling at him.

Suddenly, Colin's eyes widened. He pointed to the Corners and then to Daphne. "Hey! You've all met then, right?"

Daphne smiled. "I've been filling them in on how Michael's doing at school."

"Ah-ha! So _you two_ are back on, I see." Colin winked and nodded slowly at her. "Hm-mmm!"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Stuff it, git!"

"Last year, Daphne was completely _in love _with Michael." Colin told the Corners, winking at them.

"We heard," John said, amused at Colin.

Daphne scrunched her face up like she was sucking a lemon. "I already told them."

Behind her, Ginny gasped, the identity of the two people on the couch finally hitting her.

"You're Michael's parents?"

"We are — _oh_! Ginny! Ginny _Weasley_! We've heard so much about you."

Sarah stood up, and held her hand out to the Gryffindor. Daphne looked at Ginny, who noticeably paled and gulped. "S-sure you have," she squeaked, rather uncharacteristically. It hit Daphne that Ginny was actually meeting Michael's parents for the first time, two years after she had dated their son.

She snorted.

(_This is awkward._)

Daphne watched, trying desperately to hold back her laughter as a spluttering, red-faced Ginny shook the Corners' hands. "V-very lovely to meet you both! Michael's a saint! Wonderful bloke!"

Sarah gave her husband a bemused expression. "Well, that's good to know. Maybe he does take after me."

Colin snapped his fingers. "That's right! Ginny, you used to date Michael _ages _ago! Well," he said, flashing a horrible grin. "This is fun!"

"Shut it, Creevey!"

"Colin thinks he's funny," Sarah said, leaning over to Ginny and Daphne, but still speaking loud enough for Colin to hear her. "Just ignore him."

"All right, all right. I apologize. How about I make it up to all of you by taking a picture." He raised his camera up. "The film has a magical solution on it. It'll be ready for you in minutes! Daphne, you can take it back to school with you and show him."

Sarah let out a little gasp. "Wait a tick! That reminds me." She touched Daphne's arm. "Would it be all right to give you something to give to him back at school?"

"Darling, they're going to be searched. She might get in trouble."

"No, I'll try." Daphne bobbed her head very quickly. "I'm Head Girl. Most likely, I'll be doing the searching."

"Fred and George know charms that can conceal things too. We can ask for their help," Ginny offered.

Daphne turned back to Michael's mum. "I'll give whatever you want to Michael."

She smiled at her husband, who responded in kind. Her arm went behind her back and Sarah pulled out a folded and sealed letter from the pocket of her jeans.

"Here," she said, handing the parchment over to Daphne. "It's a letter that John and I wrote, after the attack in November. Mike'll probably roll his eyes and say that his mum's a sap. But can you give it to him?"

Even though Daphne was known more for her sarcasm than her sentimentality, there was no way she could tell this woman no. Sarah watched her, her eyes wet and hopeful, praying that she'd be able to deliver it to him. Without taking her eyes off of her, Daphne nodded. She hoped her face reflected just how serious she felt about what she had been entrusted with. "I'll make sure he gets it." She took the parchment into her hands.

Sarah pulled her into an embrace. "Thank you so much, Daphne."

John patted her shoulders. "It means a lot to us that you're willing to do this."

Daphne pulled away, embarrassed and blushing. She smiled, although it was rather shaky, and she turned to Colin, trying desperately to signal with her eyes to _takethedampicturealready!_

"All right! Let's do this." His voice was overly chipper, but a relieved Daphne pulled back and stood next to Sarah and John. Ginny, though stood off to the side — until Sarah beckoned for her to join them.

"Oh, come _on_, Gingersnap! It'll be fun." Daphne winked at her. Ginny turned red, but she grinned and rolled her eyes as she joined them.

"Great," Colin said, peering into the viewfinder. "On three, start waving and smiling like hell! Oh, and John?"

"Yes?"

"Give Sarah a nice holiday kiss for the photo. I'll bet Michael'll love that!"

John let out a hearty laugh.

"Okay." Colin held up his hand. "On three. One. Two. . . ."

* * *

They made it back to the Burrow after dark, but when the evening was still early.

As they walked through the wards surrounding the Burrow, Daphne let out a string of curses, whispered under her breath.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, leaning over to her, rubbing her hands together to keep them warm.

Daphne held up her D.A. Galleon. "I completely forgot that I had this! While I was talking to Michael's mum and dad." She looked at Ginny. "I could've used it to tell him I saw his parents. I could've let them talk to him with it. Dammit! You don't think he'll be angry with me that I didn't use it?"

Ginny shook her head. "Give him the letter and Colin's picture, and he'll be so overwhelmed with those that he won't even bring up the Galleon. If he asks, just be honest and tell him you forgot. And maybe it's better that you didn't use it; if you sent him a message that you were with his parents, Terry would've seen it. Who knows what could've happened next. This way, you can give him the letter and picture privately, and if he wants to share the information with others, he can."

"Right," she replied, distracted. They stepped onto the front porch of the Burrow, and paused, waiting for the adults to catch up. Both girls rubbed their arms, keeping themselves warm in the freezing winter air, despite being bundled up in layers and layers of coats. "Sorry. I'm still a bit thrown that I met his parents tonight. I don't even know if they liked me."

"I think they did. They were so happy to talk to someone who's close to Michael. At least that's the way it seemed to me."

Daphne nodded, but she seemed like she was a million miles away. "I hope they approve of me and him together." She groaned, rolling her eyes. "It's never mattered before, whether some bloke's parents approved of me as a girlfriend."

Ginny grinned. "Well, you've never been in love before, have you?"

She blushed, despite the freezing temperature. Soundlessly, she shook her head.

"Things like meeting the parents matter," Ginny continued, as her mum, dad and brother reached the house. "They liked you. Don't sweat it."

"Right now I'm not sweating anything." Daphne shivered as her breath came out in a little cloud of steam.

"Okay you two!" Molly chirped, opening the door. "Inside and we'll get some hot chocolate into all of our bodies. Warm them up!"

The Weasleys and Daphne entered the Burrow, Molly and the men checking around, making sure the premises hadn't been invaded since they left. They stepped out of their coats and winter clothes as Molly made her way into the kitchen to start heating up the hot chocolate.

Charlie ruffled Daphne's hair; she swatted his hand away, grinning. "So you met your boyfriend's parents, eh?"

"Yeah, I guess I did."

Charlie clicked his tongue. "It's all so overrated. Relationships."

Daphne raised her eyebrow. "You're single, then?"

Ginny laughed. "Charlie's never single. He has girlfriends coming out of his bum!"

He chuckled. "I'm not really the 'relationship' type—"

They jumped, startled at the sound of a teapot breaking.

"Arthur!" Molly gasped. The entire family ran over to her. "Arthur, Ron's hand!"

Ginny's heart stopped.

"Molly, sweetheart, what is it?"

Her hand was pressed against her mouth, the other pointing shakily at the Weasley family clock. "It's the first time I've ever seen it move. Right before my eyes."

The family peered closely at the clock. And Ron's hand had moved.

"He's 'Travelling'," Arthur said, squeezing her shoulders. His voice was on the verge of breaking.

Their eyes never left the clock until it settled back, somewhere between 'Mortal Peril' and 'Away'."


	42. Chapter 41: Molly’s Revenge

**A/N: **All characters (including my Ravenclaws! Sniff sniff!) are property of JKR.

* * *

**Chapter 41: Molly's Revenge and Bill's Confession**

The Friday before Ginny and Daphne were set to return to school, the girls decided to start packing their trunks. It was mostly busy work that kept their minds and bodies occupied so as not to dwell on the state of wizarding affairs.

Daphne grinned as she looked at her D.A. Galleon. Ever since meeting Michael's parents at the safe-house on Christmas, she had taken to using it everyday, several times even to keep in touch with him. She clearly felt guilty about not using it to tell him she was with his mum and dad; Ginny reckoned that it was better to wait until she could see him face-to-face and tell him privately, mostly for Terry's benefit than anything else.

The last message from Michael stated that he had some sort of surprise for her.

"Can't be anything like what you're going to give him," Ginny pointed out. "I'm pretty sure meeting his parents and giving him that letter and photograh'll trump anything."

Daphne blushed. "I didn't think I could be more excited to see him. Turns out I was wrong." She laid the Galleon on Ginny's desk, next to a sealed parchment and the wizard picture Colin took of Michael's parents with Daphne and Ginny.

A dull thud caused Daphne to turn her head; Ginny had dropped a book on the floor. The Slytherin picked it up, frowning as she read the title. "_Possession: The Magic That Controls, The Magic that Haunts_?" She regarded her friend with a dubious expression. "Bit of light reading for the holiday?"

Ginny grabbed the book from her. "Mine." She shoved it into her trunk without saying another word.

"Sorry." Daphne held her hands up, backing away from the other girl slowly. "Didn't mean to insult your reading skills."

Ginny shook her head. "It's not that. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's . . ." She rubbed the heels of her hands against her shut eyes. "It's—"

"It's something you'll tell me at a later date, when you're ready to?"

"Yeah."

Before either girl could say another word, a muffled _BOOM!_ broke through the air. They looked at each other, and both made for the door, fleeing down the staircase and into the kitchen. Molly was already at the window above the sink. Ginny ran over to stand next to her mum's right, Daphne on her left.

A plume of dark smoke curved into the sky. Molly's hands were pressed against her mouth, and she was breathing in worried gasps.

"Merlin help us! That's coming from the direction of the Lovegood's house."

Ginny ran over to the Weasley Family clock. "Mum, Dad, Bill, and Fred and George's hands are all on 'Travelling'." She turned a pair of wide eyes onto her mum. "And so is Ron's."

A series of Apparition pops echoed from the backyard. Molly pushed the girls back behind her and drew her wand. "I want you two to remain _quiet_!" She pressed her hand against the door, leaning forwards to catch any sound from the outside. They could hear a number of footsteps, running quickly up the front yard, stomping on the old wood steps of the front porch.

All three witches held their breaths. Molly's hand rested on the doorknob, her wand at the ready—

There was a knock.

"Molly, what do I call you when we're alone?"

Ginny refrained from rolling her eyes as she normally did whenever she heard her dad ask her mum's security question. She was far too relieved hearing his voice from behind the door.

"Mollywobbles. And what is your dearest ambition, Arthur?"

"To find out how airplanes stay in the air. I've got Bill, George and Fred with me."

Molly opened the door and the Weasley men entered, shutting and locking the door behind them. As soon as the final _click_ of the latch sealing the door sounded, she started filling her husband in on what had just happened. "There was an explosion, not more than five minutes ago. It came from the direction of the Lovegoods' house. Arthur -- Ron's hand moved. To '_Travelling_'."

Arthur and Bill grabbed two brooms and started towards the door. "Fred and George will fill you in on what we heard at the Ministry."

She grabbed her husband's arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Molly, we have to go see what happened at Xeno's place. We have to see what they know."

"Do you know if Ron's involved? Was that explosion connected to Ron travelling?"

Arthur took her hand in his, and kissed her; the gesture would've normally had Ginny make gagging gestures, but given the circumstances all Ginny could feel surge through her was worry and fear for her father and brother's safety.

"Did you refresh the charms on the ghoul, dear?"

"Yes, of course I did. First thing this morning. But, Arthur, what is this about?"

"We're going to find out now." His voice was soft but firm. "We'll be safe, sweetheart. We'll be back very soon, but I do want this family to be prepared to evacuate the Burrow if we give the signal. Molly."

"Yes Arthur?"

"We might have some _guests _with us. They'll be hungry." He gave his wife a wink. Ginny and Daphne both noticed the smile — practically a smirk — emerging on Molly's face. "Perhaps a spot of lunch? Only for our guests, though. We'll eat later."

"I think that's a smashing idea."

"Thought so. Love you. Love you all," he said to the room. Arthur gave his wife one more kiss and smiled as he pulled away from her, shutting the door behind him and Bill.

As soon as she cast Locking Charm and Sound-Muffling Charms around them, Molly faced the twins. "All right. Either one of you — start talking!"

Fred and George regarded each other for a few moments. In a swift motion, Fred held his hand out and bowed gracefully at his brother.

"Oh, I see, coward!"

"I've got the looks, George. You've got the voice that can make bad news sound great!"

"Prat—"

"Will _one _of you please tell me what happened at the Ministry today? George, talk!"

George smiled apologetically at his mum. "A couple of hours ago, Xenophilius Lovegood sent his Patronus to the Ministry claming that he has Harry at his place."

The colour drained from Molly's skin. She clapped her hand over her mouth. "H-Harry? B-but that means . . . _Ron_!" She fled back over to her family's clock grabbing it in clenched fists. "His hand's returned to 'Mortal Peril'_. Ron's hand _is on Mortal Peril!"

"Mum, his hand's always on 'Mortal Peril' now. Same as the rest of the family's."

"Fred, your brother could be in actual danger . . . or, or _worse_!" Molly's voice was harsh and brittle, as if it was on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. All it would take would be the news that the Ministry had captured her son. Or something far, far worse.

The twins stood in front of her; it was rare sight, but Ginny saw the gravity in Fred and George's expressions. "Dad and Bill are going to check it out. They'll let us know what they find out," George said calmly.

"Chances are, if Harry, Ron and Hermione were at Xeno's, for whatever reason, they're long gone by now," Fred added.

"Mum," Ginny piped up, "Ron's hand moved to 'Travelling', remember? That probably means they were able to get away if they were involved. There _was _an explosion over there. Maybe that was them." She couldn't explain it, but she was feeling more and more heartened that the trio was all right.

Daphne grinned. "It would figure Harry or Ron would be involved in something exploding. Probably something Hermione concocted to help them escape."

Molly sniffled and sucked in a breath. "Okay. Your father was right, though. If there was even an inkling that Harry, Hermione, and Ron were over there, the Ministry officials are going to want to check on the ghoul. If they come over here, they'll want food and they'll be hungry for sure. They're always hungry when they make their unannounced visits. So we do need to make a meal for them — and only them."

Once more, there was an odd, mischievous glint in Molly's eyes. The girls caught it and looked at each other, flummoxed as to what she meant.

"Do you need help, Mum?"

She nodded at Fred. "Yes. You two," she addressed the twins, "take care of our larder. Make sure they won't find a trace of our food supplies. Otherwise, they'll take every last bit of anything that's edible."

"I think George and I can manage making all of it disappear," Fred said with a wink.

"Oh! Here." Molly handed to Fred the Weasley's clock. "Make sure this gets hidden too. I'll not have our guests snooping about and looking at things they've got no business seeing. Especially if it gives anything away." Fred took the heirloom with a grin and placed it inside the Burrow's larder. "And nothing funny, either of you!" She waved a warning finger at them. "A simple Disillusionment Bubble will suffice."

George sighed and shook his head in an overly dramatic fashion. "Always jumping to conclusions, Mum. It's like she expects us to do something bad, right Fred?"

"It's a wonder we've grown up as well adjusted as we have."

"Get to work," Molly said in a stern voice. "Daphne and Ginny — I'll prepare lunch. The both of you set the table."

Molly waved her wand. The two girls jumped backwards as food of all different kinds flew across the room, somehow managing to avoid the twins as they focused on the larder. Bread, containers of broth, meat and vegetables all settled on the counter. They watched, mesmerized, as Ginny's mum used her wand to light the stove, and, with a quick jerk of her wrist, the food flew into a very old and rusty pot. A large wooden spoon began stirring it, and with her free hands, Molly tossed in something that resembled seasonings.

"Here you go, girls." She continued to stir as she flicked her wand again, sending several older metal bowls and rusty forks towards the counter. "Set these out. I want everything to be ready for them once they get here."

Ginny and Daphne hurried around the Weasley's dining table, laying out plates and silverware. In the background, they could see the twins wave their wands and mutter an incantation that was indecipherable.

Suddenly, there was a ripple in the room, similar to the one that had lifted the disguises off of the Burrow's holiday guests for the Christmas Eve holiday. When the girls looked back over at the twins, they jumped, startled as they saw the larder that had been partially filled with food now empty.

"Done and done! Disillusionment Bubble is all set." Fred said, as both twins slapped their hands.

"Let those bastards try to find anything in here to eat." George turned back to appraise their work. "Mum, anything else we can help with?"

Molly kept stirring her pot. She didn't answer George's question, but continued to monitor her cooking.

Returning her attention back to her chore, Ginny picked up one of the spoons, staring at the rusty utensil in the light. It was quite nasty, even dirty-looking. The bowls, too, were bashed and dented in, and it looked as if no one had bothered washing them. She let the spoon drop onto the plate with a loud clang.

"Eurgh! We can't eat on these. They're filthy!"

Molly looked right at her. "Those dishes aren't for us, dear. They're for our guests, as is this fine stew." Se uncorked a small vial and poured something that looked like a dark broth into the pot. She kept stirring. "We give them every last bite of this food, and we will not eat until they're gone. You understand?"

She stared at each of her children and Daphne. They all looked back at her, their expressions serious, but they did not dare not argue with her. No matter that, as if timed to Molly's words, all four of their stomachs grumbled in protest.

Fred clenched his. "Can we at least tell Dad to hurry it up with the Death Eaters? Not sure if our stomachs can last much longer."

Molly took a deep breath over the steaming pot, her face curdling. "P-perfect," she said, coughing, holding back a gag. She killed the heat on the stove and Levitated the stew onto the table.

"Good. No one eat this batch. We'll let them have it all!" She pivoted sharply towards Ginny and Daphne. "Do not talk to them. Do not look at them. If they say anything at all to either of you girls, you swallow whatever you really want to say, and you tell them 'Yes sir,' or "No sir'. Do not smile. Do not do anything to draw your attention. Daphne?"

"Yes?"

"Are you wearing a shirt with your Slytherin patch on it?"

Daphne looked down. She was lucky; she was wearing a black turtleneck with her House's blazon right on the front of her chest. She turned her eyes back up to Molly and gave her a nod.

"Good." Molly gave one last appraising look at the table. The girls and the twins leaned over to the pot to inhale the aroma of the stew—

And they promptly choked. It smelled rancid.

"What the hell's in that?" Ginny asked, her voice spluttering as she coughed to get the stink out of her nose and mouth. "Mum, if you feed that to them, they'll curse you!"

Molly shook her head. "Oh, of course. I almost forgot!" She pulled out her wand and whispered something over the pot.

Ginny caught a couple of words. "_Tepesco_!" and "_Floraroma!_" Molly leaned back over the pot and breathed in deeply. She stood back, shrugging, her face showing neither disgust nor satisfaction. "That'll do for our purposes."

Daphne took a piece of bread and banged it on the table; the bread didn't even break, but instead it hit the wood with a dull _thud. _ "It's as hard as a rock."

Molly grabbed it and a couple of other pieces and tossed them into her pot. "The broth should soften it up enough for them to eat. We'll let them have it, and then—"

Her words were cut short as a silvery weasel flew through the air, landing practically on top of the table and the pot of vile stew Molly had just set out.

"_Everything's all right. We're coming home to check on Ron. We will have some guests from the Ministry. Five to be exact._" And the weasel leapt back into the air, disappearing as soon as it passed through the wall of the Burrow.

In the distance, just past the boundary of the wards that kept the air outside warm, they could hear the whooshing of brooms as they landed in their backyard.

Molly's expression hardened into stone.

"Ready, now. They're here."

* * *

Ginny and Daphne stood behind Molly in the kitchen, watching the men feed themselves. The Death Eaters slurped their soup, belching and dripping broth everywhere. They tracked in mud and the outdoors on their boots, not caring to wipe or clean after them.

They never said "Please" or "Thank you". With them, it was always, "More, woman! Now!" Or something many times more vulgar.

But Molly Weasley obliged them, without a smile.

After several grunts and eating up everything that Molly had set out for lunch, without leaving a spot of food for the family themselves, the Death Eaters shoved themselves away from the table without bothering to wipe or clean off their places. The two who appeared to lead the group, Travers and Selwyn, stomped past Arthur, Bill, Fred and George, who stared at them with murderous eyes. As Travers was about to depart, he turned and sneered at Arthur, his eyes flashing at Molly.

"Your son looks like shit! And your food tastes like shit too! Can't afford anything of worth, can you?"

With a disdainful leer, Travers slammed the door behind him. They waited until they heard the sound of pops in the distance.

Bill ran over to the window, his voice filled with relief. "They're gone!"

"Thank Merlin!" Molly flicked her wand, Banishing the used pot and wooden spoon and empty dishes into the unknown and washed her hands vigorously. Ginny eyed her mum suspiciously.

"So, Mum?" Ginny asked. "Care to explain yourself?"

Molly merely smiled at Daphne and Ginny, but she her eyes twinkled exuberantly. "Girls, wash your hands well. Arthur, you and the boys make sure that the floors and table are spotless."

Fred picked up the little vial of dark broth and gave it a sniff, his face crumpling in revulsion. He chuckled as he read the label. "I wondered where our store of doxy droppings had gone to!" He looked over at Molly. "Well played, Mum!"

"I didn't grow up around your uncles Gideon and Fabian for nothing, you know. Now, get to it," she said, her voice more lively and spry than when she made the first batch. "We've got a second lunch to prepare."

She pulled out a shinier stew pot from her cabinet and removed the charm from the larder.

"Yes, and um, Mum? There's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Ginny's eyes caught Bill's as he looked over at Arthur. Bill's face was the picture of anxiety.

"What is it, Bill?"

He shook his head. "It can wait until after we eat." He flashed his father a look of resignation. "But make sure those Sound Muffling Charms are secure before I start talking."

Ginny cocked an eyebrow at her eldest brother. "You afraid there's going to be yelling?"

He shook his head. "Later."

Molly caught none of this as she was immersed with preparing a fresh meal for her own family. With a grin that never left her face, she summoned to her kitchen a whole basket of fresh vegetables and Arthur brought over a lovely roast, kept fresh with preservation charms, waiting to be prepared and eaten.

* * *

The family stayed silent as Bill finished saying his peace. Ginny couldn't even look at her brother, not after what he had just told them.

"Mum, will you please say something?"

"_Why_ didn't you tell us this sooner?" There was a chill to Molly's voice, quite unfamiliar to Ginny's ears. When her mum got mad, normally her temper raged, burning out quickly like a Whiz-Bang.

Normally.

But when she spoke cold and chilly like she was now, there was no telling what she was going to say next. It was as if she was a glass, chilled to the frostiest of temperatures. It could break at any moment; all it took was the right tap.

"How _dare_ you! How dare you not tell us that Ron was safe and alive! This whole time you knew and you didn't say anything to the family. To _me _or to your father!"

Bill stood up and walked towards his mum. Arthur moved to stand closer to his wife and eldest son. Fred and George remained in their spots, their arms crossed, flashing each other slightly worried and somewhat relieved expressions.

"Just glad it's not us this time," Fred whispered.

"Mum, you've got to listen to me about this. You didn't see Ron when he came to Shell Cottage—"

"_BECAUSE YOU NEVER TOLD US!! HIS OWN MUM AND DAD!! YOU NEVER TOLD US HE WAS WITH YOU!! DAMMIT WILLIAM ARTHUR WEASLEY, HOW COULD YOU KEEP THAT FROM US?!_"

"He would've left, Mum!" Bill said, cutting in before Molly could tear into him any further. "Ron was desperate for help. When Charlie stumbled onto Shell Cottage a couple of weeks ago to surprise us, he saw Ron sleeping. He wasn't supposed to see anything! He was about to tell you; he _wanted _to tell you. I had to threaten him with an Unbreakable Vow to make sure he knew how serious I was, how serious Ron was that no one knew he was staying with us."

"Wha- . . . you made Charlie make an Unbreakable Vow?" Molly's voice regained that terrifying coldness.

"_Almost_, Mum. I threatened him, but I didn't go through with it. If Charlie had said something to either of you and Ron found out, Ron would've left. I'm sure of it. And what if he needed to find Shell Cottage again? What if he left, and later on, he needed our help — _my_ help — and I broke his trust. He wouldn't want come back to me! I couldn't do that to him."

Molly pursed her lips together, but her eyes were hard, rigid like stone. Bill apparently thought it was a good sign that she wasn't bolting, and he continued to watch her, thinking about what to say next. Ginny, though wanted to flee; she wanted to shut her bedroom door and throw things at her wall, punch her pillows, kick at her desk. Anything to get rid of this anger, no matter how irrational it was, all aimed at her brother.

"Ron was scared and alone. He came to us in that first week of November, feeling like he didn't have anywhere else to go. And he was hurt and cut up and had just Splinched himself trying to get to our house."

"H-he Splinched . . . b-but what happened? What did he Splinch?"

Bill wiggled his fingertips in front of her. "His fingernails. That's all. But he couldn't find Harry or Hermione where he had left—" Bill coughed, as if he had just caught himself saying too much. "A-after he had gotten separated from them."

"That's not what you were going to say before." Ginny stepped up towards him. "You said Ron _left_."

Her oldest brother hung his head low. "Shit." Licking his lips, he looked back up and sighed heavily. "They had a falling out. Ron said . . . he said a lot of things that he regretted." He turned a pair of sad eyes towards his sister. "He and Harry nearly came to blows."

Ginny gasped. She stared at Bill, her eyes narrowing at him. "Th-that's not Ron. He'd never do anything like that."

"Look, all I know is that whatever they're doing under Dumbledore's orders put a lot of stress on him. Actually, I think what he said was something closer to making him 'go all mental'."

To Ginny's right, she could hear Daphne snort. But she was barely focusing on the conversation. All she could think about was Ron. Ron leaving Harry and Hermione. Ron almost punching the daylights out of Harry, his best friend.

Sure, her brother could be a royal prat sometimes -- like his fourth year, when Harry was chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. Ron had allowed his jealousy to get the better of him, and for a whole month, he didn't speak to Harry at all.

But they had made up. And Ron had never struck Harry with his fists. Ginny shut her eyes. He was her hero, through and through. She had idolized how devoted he was to his friends, even through his wisecracking and jokes and his proclivity to be a git every once in a while. Percy was the brother who ran away from his own friends and flesh and blood (_the idiot!_). Ron wouldn't have run away from them. It wasn't in his nature.

Molly made a choking sound and brought her hand up to her mouth. "What in the name of Merlin does Dumbledore have them doing?"

Ginny's attention snapped back to her family.

"I don't know," Bill said in a softer voice. "Ron refused to tell me. Mum, I tried to convince him that I should tell you and Dad. The entire family should've known and had it been up to me—"

"It was up to you!" Molly interrupted.

"With all due respect, _Mother_, it wasn't." Bill's voice was now starting to increase in volume. "The only way that I could've ensured Ron trusted me was by respecting his wishes and that meant not telling any of you that he was all right."

"Arthur, please tell me you're just as angry as I am!"

One look at her dad, and Ginny knew he wasn't.

"Molly, what Bill did disappointed me, but he was only doing what he thought best."

She stared at her husband, mortified. "You're agreeing with him, aren't you?"

He looked at his son, patting him on the shoulder. "Do I wish Ron had wanted us to know that he was safe? Or that Ron stayed here with us where we could watch over him? Of course I do. But, truth be told, the Burrow is under the Ministry's sharp eye; had Ron approached us, the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who may've caught him." He smiled sadly at his wife. "And how can I stay angry at Bill when he was the one Ron turned to for help?"

Molly's eyes flashed angrily on Bill's face. "You could've told us."

"Mum, I stand by my decision. I put Ron first. I'm sorry that you're angry about it, but I wouldn't hesitate to do it again. And if he didn't want you to know, I wouldn't tell you."

Ginny watched the entire exchange play out in front of her, trying to keep herself from falling apart. She backed away from her family, shaking her head, staring at some point in front of her. "I can't do this," she muttered. "I-I . . . just can't do this."

"Gin," Bill said softly, turning to reach for her.

"Stay away from me." Her voice was shaky. Ginny hoped she sounded like she was full of anger. She spun away from him, and ran up the stairs, vaguely hearing a girlish voice say, "I'll go check on her."

She didn't care if Daphne or the twins were following her; Ginny slammed the door shut, picking up the first hard items she saw, her Potions textbooks, and slammed them against the wall.

"_ERGH! TAKE THAT!_" she yelled as the book hit the wall. She took another set of books and threw them and started kicking at her bed and desk. At this moment, all she wanted to do was destroy things.

The door opened, and Daphne and the twins emerged as Ginny threw another book level to their heads. They ducked, missing the projectile as it bounced off the moulding surrounding the door. Ginny panted heavily, her hair wild, falling out of the ponytail that sat high on her head. She watched as Daphne walked into the room, holding her hands up. Fred and George were waving white handkerchiefs, monogrammed with their initials.

"We come in peace, o' beautiful and sweet little sister who wouldn't dare do damage to our precious good looks!" George said. Ginny huffed at them and slammed the door shut.

"I needed to get this off my chest!"

"Just make sure whenever it _does _come off, you don't hit our heads with it," Fred said smirking.

She made a growling noise and sat down on the edge of her bed. There was silence in the room for a few moments, broken only by the sound of Daphne moving forwards to sit by Ginny. George extended his arm, holding her back.

"But—" Daphne started softly.

"Wait for it."

"_HOW COULD HE DO THIS?!_"

"And there it is," Fred said, holding his hand out in a flourish.

"Which brother are you referring to, Gin?" George asked. "The idiot that ran away from Harry and Hermione, or the idiot that told Mum he'd been hiding said idiot for almost two months?"

She glared at him. "Try both."

Daphne sat down next to her. "Ginny, I know it looks bad that Bill did this, but Ron's alive. He kept Ron alive and safe. And it sounds like your brother did find Harry and Hermione again, regardless of whatever fight they may have had. Judging from what Bill and your dad said, they bet pretty much everything in the Weasleys' family's vault that Harry, Ron and Hermione were there at the Lovegoods today."

"It makes sense," Fred cut in. "Half his house was blown apart. I'd wager Harry and Ron were involved. Hermione too; that girl has far more bite than people give her credit for."

"See?" Daphne asked feebly. "They're all right. I'm sure of it."

"I-it's not just that, though." Ginny said. "Ron _ran_ _away_. He abandoned them. Right when they needed him." She looked up at her brothers and at Daphne, practically pleading with them to give her some explanation. "Why would he do that?"

"Ron can be a prat sometimes."

Every head in the room turned to look at Fred, who, for once, didn't appear poised to make some Fred-like quip. "Ron's hot-headed, right? He's impulsive and sometimes his head's not screwed on properly."

"He also has the temperament of a Ridgeback in heat," George added. "Piss him off when he's hungry or tired, and he will not be a happy camper."

"Gin, no one's perfect, right? You know Ron's not."

She replied to Daphne's question with an annoyed shrug and slouched over. "I can't believe he'd do that to them, leave them while they're on Dumbledore's big stupid mission. Am I the only one that's bothered by this?"

Her eyes scanned their faces, waiting for an answer. It was Daphne who spoke up first.

"If anyone knows about mucking things up around here, it's me. I've blackmailed people before—"

"Eh, no big deal. So've we," Fred wiggled his thumb between him and George, who coughed. It sounded mysteriously like "_ludobagman_".

Daphne rolled her eyes and turned back to Ginny. "I screwed up what I had with Michael last year. Enough that he probably shouldn't have taken me back. And I—" Her voice drifted off.

"What?"

"I almost told Draco Malfoy that Harry had been having lessons with Dumbledore last year."

Ginny stared at her, horrified. "Daphne! How could you?"

"I didn't! But I-I was in a really rough spot at that point; I had just overheard Dumbledore and Snape talking about my past, and all that stuff about Tom Riddle—"

"Tom Riddle?" Fred looked at her, bewildered. "That's You-Know-Who."

"Yeah, and apparently, when Dumbledore first met me, he thought I reminded him of Mister Riddle, bad childhood and all."

Fred, George and Ginny all winced.

"Well, I don't blame you for going through a rough spot after hearing something like that."

Daphne let out a small, humourless chuckle at Fred's statement. "My head was in a really rotten space for the rest of the year, and I wanted to do something truly and _horrendously_ awful."

"Getting in bed with the ferret would certainly qualify as something horrendously awful."

Daphne shivered. "_Yecch_! You have no idea. But the point is I didn't do it, even though I came painfully close." She looked at Ginny with a slightly shifty gaze, her skin reddening. Ginny knew vaguely that Daphne had had a crush on Harry for most of last year; she wondered if finding out Harry didn't reciprocate her feelings might've played a small role in tempting her to tell Draco about Harry and Dumbledore's private meetings.

"I told Harry what I had almost done, and I told Michael that I had blackmailed people. I fucked up, not just a few times either. But both of them forgave me. Ron might've messed up, but from what Bill told us, he did everything he could to rejoin them. And it sounded like he succeeded."

Ginny sat still for a few moments, not saying a word.

"I never thought he'd try to hit Harry, though. Never thought he'd let himself get so angry with his best mate like that."

"Gin, Ron can be a lot of things, right? He's always been insecure around Harry," Fred said.

"And we won't even get into how insecure Hermione can make him feel."

She looked over at George, nodding. "Yeah, guess you're right. I can't believe Bill kept this from us!"

"You reckon Mum's ever been that pissed at him?" Fred asked George.

"Never seen it before. Bill and Percy, when he was here, usually got spared the brunt of Mum's temper. If she's ever been angry with Bill, it's been completely overshadowed by the countless times she's yelled at us."

"And Charlie." Fred interjected.

"Not to mention how many times she's yelled at Ron and me," Ginny said as she fell backwards on the bed.

"And Dad," all three Weasley kids said simultaneously.

"They'll get past this, right? It's not like Molly can stay mad at Bill for very long, especially for doing what he thought was the right thing."

"Sure, Daphne," Fred replied. "Mum's temper's one for the ages, but she'll calm down. I was a bit scared at first; she was far too calm and collected after Bill spoke. Haven't heard that from her since we signed up to join the Order. But then she started yelling, and we knew everything was back to normal."

"Are you mad at him, Gin?" Daphne asked.

"Oh hell yes I'm mad! Bill could've told us at any time that he was protecting Ron. He could've told the family that he knew Ron was safe! He could've said something—"

"And Ron would've bolted and never, ever have trusted him again, Gin. Yeah, Bill had a real _easy _choice there."

"George, come on! You're okay with what Bill did? No problems that he never told Mum and Dad, who've been worried sick about Ron and whether or not he's okay—"

"And who have been relatively safe here at the Burrow because the Death Eaters that are currently running the show have no clue Ron's with Harry and Hermione." George replied. "Don't you think that if the Ministry knew that Ron was with Undesirable Number One, they'd be over here tearing the place to shreds? Merlin knows what they would do to Mum."

Ginny's hand flew up, stopping her brother in mid-sentence. The Death Eaters doing anything to her parents was the last thing she wanted to contemplate. "Shh! All right, all right. Fine. I take your point." She looked at the twins. "Still doesn't make me feel better about what he did—"

There was a knock at her door. Ginny stared at it for a beat and, finally, she walked over to open it.

Bill was standing in the hallway. His arms were folded across his chest and he looked at Ginny directly. "You still mad at me, Gingersnap?"

She regarded him with slanted eyes and leaned against the edge of the door. She wasn't about to lie to him. "I am."

He sighed. "Thought you would be. I'm about to leave and despite what you think of my actions, I can't leave without telling you I love you."

Ginny bit her lip. She could feel her chin wrinkling, fighting back tears that threatened to spill out. She gently beat her knuckles against the door. "Love you too," she said in a weak, shaky voice.

"Still mad though?"

She nodded.

"Do you want to thump me?" He twisted, pushing his arm towards her. "Go on. Hit my arm if you want to."

She stared at his offering for a moment; her eyes flashed up at him. "You should've told us that he was all right."

"I understand why you're angry, Gin. But I'm not sorry I protected him. I'm not sorry that I did what I thought was the right thing."

She reared her arm back . . . and lightly tapped him. Bill folded his arms around her, hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head.

"I do love you. You know that, right?"

"Be safe, Bill. You and Fl-Fleur."

"I'll see what I can do about seeing you off at King's Cross in a few days." He pulled away from her and gave her a small smile. "Will that be a start?"

"It might."

He nodded at the others. "Fred, George. Are you coming?"

"Right behind you, Bill!"

He gave Daphne a brief but brotherly squeeze around her shoulders, and Bill, Fred and George made their way down the stairs. Ginny watched Bill approach their mum cautiously, afraid Molly may erupt one last time. And although their mum regarded Bill with a far more stern expression than she normally gave her children, even when they made her angry, her arms wrapped around her eldest son and embraced him as tightly as she ever did.

* * *


	43. Chapter 42: Back into Hell

**A/N: **I have fallen massively behind in review replies, due to work, life, and re-finding my inner Trekkie (Star Trek wins at life!), but I'm trying to catch up. There may be a Star Trek fanfiction brewing around in my head too, all thanks to the movie.

Thank you to everyone who is continuing to read this story and who's been putting it on their alerts and favoriting it. I really do appreciate your support. And, as you know, I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Chapter 42: Back into Hell**

The two Slytherins stepped through the barrier that led onto Platform 9 ¾.

Daphne Greengrass looked around her. The only thing she could see of colour was the vibrant scarlet and deep black of the Hogwarts Express' engine, with its whimsical gold letters painted on the side. The families that had arrived early were huddled close together in protective clusters, as far away from the statue-still sentries posted around the perimeter of the station.

"What the _hell _are the point of those monstrosities?" she asked Blaise Zabini in a hushed tone. "Are they just going to watch us? Are they going to arrest people? Curse them?"

"Would you rather they do that than nothing? Right now, they're fairly harmless."

She looked at Blaise dubiously. "They're never harmless. Waiting for them to do something's the worst part. Ever since they took Luna away—" She shivered. Suddenly, she felt Blaise slide his hand into hers.

"What're you doing?"

"Trying to get my _straight on_!" He hissed at her under his breath. "Carrows at ten o'clock."

Daphne straightened up and tightened her grip on Blaise, watching Amycus and Alecto stride towards them. She pressed close to his chest, tilting her head into his shoulder, feeling comforted that her winter robes, although rather ratty, were thick enough to feel like a shield between her and the sinister figures.

Daphne mustered as genuine a smile as she could at the two Death Eaters.

"Miss Greengrass, Mister Zabini," Amycus Carrow said with a leer. "Slytherins sticking to their own kind, I see. Such a pretty, _pretty_ sight. Don't you agree?"

Daphne stifled a gag. "Yes, sir. I do." She gave him an obedient bow. She had been dreading this moment ever since yesterday, when Arthur and Bill had escorted her to Eddie's place to meet Blaise, so the two Slytherins could make the trip to the Hogwarts Express together. The holiday at the Burrow, despite its ups and downs, had provided both her and Ginny a far greater respite from the hell of the school year than they had expected. To return to this dangerous unknown made Daphne quiver with fear and uncertainty. Both feelings that she now masked as the pair of Death Eaters surrounded her and Blaise.

Alecto stepped towards her and peered at her coldly, making her blood freeze in her veins. "I still don't trust you, girl! Anyone associated with Mudbloods and blood traitors is a scourge on our society."

"Now, now, Alecto," Amycus drawled, keeping his eyes trained on Daphne — and Daphne alone. "Severus swears by this girl. Says she is one-hundred percent on our side."

To her horror, Carrow reached out and took a handful of her hair, letting it fall between his fingers. Blaise tightened his hold around her shoulders.

Amycus leaned forwards, his warm breath hitting Daphne's cheek and ear, the rotten odour from his mouth pushing into her nostrils. It reminded her of the foul stew Molly made for Carrow's Ministry allies.

"There is something very, very _sweet _about you, dear Miss Greengrass." His voice cut through her chest, his words feeling more and more threatening despite their outward banality. "I shall have my eye on you."

She felt her stomach churn as Amycus touched her arm and drew closer to the side of her face. Her eyes sought some other friendly sight as Blaise secured his grip on her.

"Daphne, let's get your trunk on the train so you can start your duties."

Wordlessly, she nodded at him, somehow managing a smile at Amycus. "I-I'll see you back at the school, Professors." Bowing her head quickly, she jerked her arm away from the Death Eater, hoping her motion wouldn't be too conspicuous.

She pulled Blaise into the train with her, making sure her trunk was secure in the prefect's compartment. She doffed off her winter robes, stuffing it as tightly as she could on the shelf next to her things. "That's it! You're never leaving my side."

"That was totally unreal," Blaise whispered. "What a sick _fuck_!"

"We're warning all the witches. _All_ of them." Daphne peeked her head up and down the corridor of the train, watching as younger students started filing on board. "At this point, I don't bloody care if they're on our side or not. I'm getting worried about Carrow's intentions towards the females in our student body, not to mention Crabbe, Pritchard and Baddock and whoever else is associated with them."

Her eyes caught several tall figures emerging from the brick wall onto the platform. She peered through the misting window . . . and a smile emerged on her face.

"Michael," Daphne said softly, grinning at him. "He's with Terry and Anthony." She wanted to wave, but forced herself not to, lest she get caught. Blaise lowered his head to look at the three wizards. Both Slytherins noticed something odd about them.

"Er, Blaise? Do you see what I see?"

"It looks like — did Corner grow a _beard_? Wait, they all did!"

Daphne's grin morphed into a chortle, and then into a hearty laugh. "Merlin! It's less a beard and more a . . ."

"Dehydrated kneazle?"

She swatted Blaise. "'S'not _that_ bad."

"Greengrass, if Eddie ever did that to his face, I'd strap him down in a chair and shave it off him!"

"I'd think you do that anyway."

Blaise glared at her flatly and muttered a foul swear.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not you then, Blaise." She reached for her Galleon to send Michael a message. "I have to see him. I'm telling him I'm on the train."

Daphne pocketed the coin and looked back outside the window, pressing her fist against her mouth, muffling a burst of laughter. She watched as Michael picked up the little gold disc and read it, a grin barely peeking out of his newly bearded face. He motioned to Terry and Anthony to bring their things into the train and jogged towards the Express, moving faster and faster the closer he got.

"I'll go outside and wait for Theodore."

"Not to mention Carmichael," Daphne added, loud enough for only him to hear. Blaise shot her a glare as he exited the train, rushing past Michael with barely a nod. She held her breath, her heart pounding as he approached the door, flanked on either side by Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein.

Since they were finally closer to her, she noticed that all three wizards had newly grown facial hair in varying stages of coverage, colour, and evenness. Surprisingly, Anthony's brown beard looked the best developed of the lot. Terry's surrounded mainly his chin and his mouth, making him look a little like a Muggle swordsman from ages past, similar to one on the cover of a book Daphne had read as a child.

Although he was normally a handsome dark-haired bloke, Michael's facial hair had grown in a slightly uneven and patchy pattern. Despite the calamity, Daphne could feel her heart swell as she saw him, overjoyed that he was all right. He looked up and down the corridor, seeing whether or not she was actually on the train.

"_Psst._"

Michael's head snapped to the left. "Daphne?"

She beckoned him over to the dark, empty cubicle she had found. "Michael. Come here for a moment."

He turned to his two friends. Anthony merely rolled his eyes, but she noticed he was smirking at the pair of them. Terry nodded at Michael. "We'll keep a watch out and get settled. Go to her, mate."

And Michael did, squeezing himself into the small, dark area with Daphne.

"Hey," he said, slightly dazed, but clearly happy to see her.

"Hey," she said right back.

Without another word, he kissed her, the shock of the sudden, unexpected, but _wonderful _contact nearly making her forget how to stand. They wrapped their arms around each other; the feel of their lips touching elicited little moans of pleasure at being back together. She didn't mind at all feeling the soft bristle of his patchy beard. She simply wanted to stay here, wrapped up in his wonderful scent and his arms.

"Merlin, I've missed you." Michael whispered softly, pulling away from her lips reluctantly. "The holidays were . . . they were a bit rough."

"Rough? Did something happen with Terry?"

He blinked several times, as if the rapid motion might stop a sudden, unwanted onslaught of something. "Christmas was hard, but we all got through it. And there was some other stuff we've been working on. For us and Neville." Michael said nothing more, instead touching his thumb on her cheek. "Not pleasant. Not pleasant at all."

He didn't continue speaking; Michael merely rubbed her skin with the pad of his fingers.

"You're not going to say what it was, are you?"

He shook his head. "Don't want to spoil this right now."

"You realize you could be more mysterious, right?"

He softly snorted and continued to cup her face. Daphne took the quiet moment to scratch his chin, currently covered in dark hair. "Is this the big surprise you wanted me to see?"

Michael rubbed where she had touched him, smiling a smile that did not fill his face. "One of, I suppose. Do you like it?"

She didn't want to dash the hopeful glint in his eyes, so she nodded. "Yeah. I saw Tony and Terry followed suit."

"It was Terry who started it. We just followed his lead. Solidarity and all that."

"Gotcha," Daphne replied, grinning. Then, she swallowed. "I need to see you tonight after dinner."

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I have a belated holiday gift and I need to see you privately to give it to you."

He waggled his eyebrows, visibly brightened by this news. "Really? Like, as in the _early _holiday gift you gave me? Because I really want to give it another go. Like _really_ bad—"

Daphne rolled her eyes; she playfully smacked him. "No, you randy bugger. It's — it's a serious gift. But I need to give it to you alone."

Michael's eyes roamed over her face and Daphne tried valiantly to keep herself from smiling too broadly; she wanted to make sure he understood that she was telling him the truth. After a minute, he nodded. "Yeah, all right. There's a classroom at the base of the West Tower. Will that do?"

"I'll be on patrol until twelve o'clock. Can you and I meet at eleven in that classroom? I'll get Anthony and Padma to help me cover my shift."

"Perfect." He gave her anther kiss, his lips lingering softly on hers. Daphne hummed, letting bliss wash over her body, loosening the tense knots that had been building in her since her run-in with the Carrows.

"Oh, bloody hell! Before I forget, make sure you tell Anthony and Padma and all your Housemates to watch out for Amycus and any students that are following him this year. He said some disturbing things to me."

Michael instantly shot up to his full height, and Daphne could imagine the hair on the back of his neck standing up. "What do you mean, he said disturbing things to you?"

"He said he'd keep an eye on me, but he said it in this really perverse and vile tone."

She felt a tremor run through his body, his hands tightening on her arms. "Daphne, if he so much as touches you, I'll kill him."

It was Michael's calm tone that shocked her; he sounded resolved, as if that course of action was the only normal one to take. Feeling heaviness in her heart, Daphne sought to quell his fears. "No, it's nothing I can't handle. Just tell the girls in your House."

He watched her for a spell and, finally, he nodded. "Neither you or Ginny heard anything about Luna yet, have you?"

She shook her head. "If we had, we'd have sent it out over the Galleons. There's been nothing. No updates. No word about where she is or how she's doing."

He flashed her a resigned grin and allowed himself one more peck on her forehead. "I'll get back to the others. If you need help—"

"I'll come find you. I'll come by your carriage once the train starts moving."

He gave her one last smile and turned back towards his mates. Daphne leaned against the walls of the cubicle, feeling both lucky that she had this insane, but wonderful, relationship to help her escape from the war, and yet profoundly sad that the war changing them. All of them.

Even Michael.

Allowing herself a few moments to linger on the happier thoughts of her and Michael Corner and empty classrooms, she went back outside to tend to her Head Girl duties.

* * *

"This is bullshit!"

Neville stormed into the compartment, Parvati shutting the door behind him, hastily casting _Muffliato_ to prevent eager ears from eavesdropping. The train lurched, throwing the Gryffindors towards the opposite side of the tiny space.

"The prefects meeting gave us a ton of information, and it's not good." Neville took a seat next to Ginny. Parvati sat on the opposite side with Seamus and Lavender. "The Carrows're going to make sure the prefects punish any student that breaks the rules or suffer punishments of their own."

A chill ran down Ginny's spine. "Punishments? On you and the other prefects? The Cruciatus or whippings or—?"

"It could mean a whole lot of things," Parvati said with a sigh, sitting down next to Lavender who was practically in Seamus' lap. "Carrow said he was 'getting tired of disciplining everyone _single_-_handedly'_." She mimicked his voice with an exaggerated sneer. "Although he had no problem recruiting Crabbe, Goyle and some of their cronies to help. Not all of them were Slytherins either. A couple of students from other Houses joined them." She shivered as she remembered what happened last term.

"That old saying, about there being a few rotten apples in every basket. Guess that's still true." Lavender added.

Seamus shook his head. "This is insane! What does this mean, Nev? Wha' d'ya want to do about the D.A.? We're still goin' through with the stuff we'd planned out at the end of term, right?"

He looked at Seamus and the others with a smirk. "What do you think? I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor for nothing."

Seamus grinned back and smacked him on his arm — hard. "Fuck right you're a Gryffindor, mate! So, Neville the Great, give us the rundown about what fun we can expect."

Neville groaned as he stared at Seamus' eager face. "We're not starting with nicknames, are we?"

"I was tryin' to get everyone to call ya Captain Bubotuber, but tha' didn't play well."

After a moment of Neville trying to hit Seamus as the girls giggled and clapped, he answered the Irish wizard's question. "Besides extending punishments onto the prefects — there's one. Curfew's been raised an hour earlier now. Vandalism of any kind can be punishable up to a week in the dungeons, at the discretion of the Carrows. And there's talk of them using some other methods on us, not just the Cruciatus or the whips."

"Other methods?" Ginny's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"

"It means we need to be prepared. The Ravenclaws have been doing research in this area. Not that they looked all that happy with what they found out."

"Anthony said that knowing what to expect is probably as good as anything as we can do to prepare ourselves." Parvati's eyes fell to the hem of her skirt as she fiddled it nervously between her fingers. "It's going to get worse from here on. The only thing we can do is find ways to survive it."

"While not losing ourselves, right?" Ginny asked. Her eyes met Neville's. His face was drawn, darker than usual due to his perpetual five o'clock shadow that never seemed to leave his face. She noticed that there were scars around his cheeks and forehead; they were sealed, of course, but still visible, and a cut on his top lip.

He looked down into his hands. In his palms was a Drooble's Best Blowing Gum wrapper and his D.A. Galleon. When he noticed Ginny staring at him, he flashed her a small smile and pocketed both.

"Know as much as we can," he said after a moment. "The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are planning their own little activities. So said Susan and Padma at the meeting."

This perplexed Ginny. "Wonder what that means, exactly?"

"Haven't the foggiest. But Padma said we'll find out about Ravenclaw's during the next Muggle Studies class. Susan said the Hufflepuff's plans weren't quite ready."

Lavender shivered. "If there is one class I'm not looking forwards to, it's that one. Well, that and Dark Arts."

"Well, at least we're all going to be in there together, er almost all of us." Neville shot Ginny a sympathetic glance. "You'll be with the entire sixth year class."

"What do you mean?"

"Another one of the Carrows' decrees, although this might be coming directly from Headmaster Death Eater himself. For the rest of the year, the Carrows' classes're going to be packed. All seventh years in a single class, all sixth years, and so on and so on."

The three other Gryffindors looked at Neville, and let out low whistles.

"Wonder what that's all about?" Lavender asked.

"I'll bet they want all their Slytherin cronies in their classes with them so they can help with 'discipline' and all that other rot." Ginny said bleakly.

"Probably. Maybe they'll think they can manage all the students giving them headaches with the ones that'll follow every order. It also means that they're tinkering around with the schedules. Muggle Studies for the seventh years are now Monday mornings, and Dark Arts for us are on Wednesdays."

Ginny shook her head, staring out the window at the ever darkening sky. The scenery, as blurred as it was from the carriage of the Express, was obscure with rain falling from dark grey, almost black clouds. The landscape too, was dead, dotted with patches of white from the last snowfall still visible.

This was not turning into a good start to the term, although Ginny never expected it to be anything but. Despite her occasional restless nights of sleep while at the Burrow, and worrying about Luna, she had been with her family, feeling their love and warmth surround her.

She remembered hugging her dad on the platform. They had barely made it before departure; typical, as the Weasleys always ran late.

"You are my little Gingersnap," he said. Ginny felt him rock her back and forth as he kissed her temple gently. "You will always be my little Gingersnap."

"I know Dad," her voice was thick and heavy with moisture. She pulled away, her resolve to not cry breaking when she saw tears in her own father's eyes. She swatted the water away from her face, unable to stop sobbing.

"Be careful, Ginny," he pleaded with her, his voice barely a whisper. He touched her hair lightly. "I love you so much. Sometimes it feels like you're the only child we can keep safe."

She could only blubber stupidly; her tears were interfering with any coherence. "D-dad, I love you too." Ginny pulled away and turned to her older brother.

"You still mad at me?" he asked, his voice humble, his head low. However, Bill looked at her with a smile. And with that, she knew she couldn't stay angry with him. Not when there was a chance that this could be the last time they saw each other. She flung herself into his arms and squeezed him as hard as she could, feeling her tears start anew.

She was beginning to wonder whether she was actually sixteen. Crying came so easily to her this year that Ginny couldn't help but think she had regressed back to that frightened eleven-year-old, unable to stop writing in a diary that seemed to understand her far better than she understood herself—

"I miss Luna already," she said, snapping herself out of her own thoughts. Ginny turned back to the others, in time to see Neville's face fall.

"I've been so worried about her ever since they arrested her and Xenophilius. Where the hell would they take her, of all people? She's bloody Luna for Merlin's sake!"

Ginny snorted. "Unfortunately, Xeno's working with the Ministry now. We strongly suspect Harry and _others_," she said with a sharp look, "were responsible. After all, Xeno's house practically blew up."

Neville and the others laughed for a moment. "Maybe we need to rename the D.A. Luna's Light Brigade."

"There's Nargle Navy too. I'd think Luna'd even vote fer tha'!" Seamus said, grinning and crossing his arms. Ginny gave him a playful kick to his shins. Lavender and Parvati both laughed.

"I didn't realize how much Luna gave to us, you know? It was subtle, but she always knew what to do, what to say to keep things going." Parvati hummed and looked out the window. "She knew exactly what to say to Terry after he lost his family. Padma was very impressed with how she helped him deal with the loss."

Neville nodded slowly, looking at some point indiscriminate point beyond the others. When his eyes returned to meet theirs, he scooted forwards in his seat. "I haven't been a great leader."

There were several protests.

"Nev, yer off y'rocker!"

"That's mental! You've been our rock!"

"Neville, no one else could've done this."

"Do you think we could've done what you did after they tortured you?"

He shook his head. "What the hell've I've been doing for you, huh? Running drills here and there, posting signs all over the school, showing pamphlets to the students. Fun and games really, but as for being a bona fide leader, I haven't done much leading." The other tried to object, but Neville continued speaking and the others fell silent as they listened to him.

"Things are going to change now. I want us to pledge, here and now, that for the remainder of the year, so long as we can stand, fight, breath, walk, whatever — we take any of their curses we can. We will stand between the Carrows and the students. Whenever we see another student getting hurt, we'll block their spells with our bodies."

Seamus blinked. "Sounds like a barrel of laughs. Whatever y' need, mate, and I'll have yer back. We both 'll be, righ' love?" He squeezed Lavender's hand, his eyes meeting hers; the couple seemed momentarily lost in a gaze of serious contemplation.

Ginny interrupted the quiet. "It's a good thing Daphne, Blaise and I all have a fresh supply of Wheezes and Decoy Detonators to muck around with." One batch had been stashed away in Daphne's trunk. Daphne had also managed to covertly stash a supply of Wheezes in Blaise's belongings as well. They had a neat charm around it to slightly Confund any individuals who dared to pick them up. Daphne had hoped being that no one would bother searching the Head Girl's personal property, same for Blaise's truck; he did have some status around Slytherin, enough that he flew under the radar not only with their Housemates, but with the Carrows as well.

"Good. Those'll come in handy," Neville said approvingly.

"You know something? Our bodies'll be broken by the end of the year, taking their curses over and over again. So we need to learn far more healing magic than we already know."

"Well then, Lavender, you can work with Padma, Anthony, Susan and Ernie then, as our official Healers." Neville grinned as she blushed.

Seamus leaned over to kiss her. "Love, if y' ever need a patient, I'll let y' examine me. Give me a full physical." He waggled his brow.

A chorus of groans and one "_Shut it Shay_!" cut through the carriage.

Neville spoke up again. "I also know that Anthony and the other Ravenclaws have been researching ways to condition our bodies and minds to the absorption of the Cruciatus, as well as how to minimize the impact of our spell casting if we're ever forced to cast it, for whatever reason."

Ginny swallowed, trying to push down the lump in her throat. "You mean if we ever come up against a Daphne – Luna situation again, right?"

He nodded. "There may be a way to modulate our voices separate from the intent of casting the spell. I know Ravenclaw's on it. They've also been looking at other information that might be helpful to us."

"Like what?"

Neville's face was grim. "They'll tell us a little more at the first meeting. It's not going to be pretty. But first, all of us have got to make it through this first week. And, most importantly, Muggle Studies and Dark Arts."

Silence befell the car. Ginny took the opportunity to look out the window, night falling as thick as a deluge.

"It gets dark so much earlier these days."

* * *

Dinner wasn't a pleasant affair, at least for a majority of the students. They were surrounded, yet again by dark sentries, same as the ones at the Sorting Feast. The new rules were laid out in Snape's unfeeling drawl:

The new curfew, the violation of which could get a student up to one day of detention.

The new rules to deal with pro-Muggle-born and pro-Harry Potter vandalism, which could earn the delinquent a day or a week in the dungeons, and all the hospitality that entailed.

And all the other possible violations of the Hogwarts student code. Punishment for disobeying any one of the rules could result in corporal punishment in varying degrees and intensities.

Daphne was on the ground floor of the West Tower, finishing tacking up the last of the parchments outlining the discipline policy. She let out a groan. "This term already makes the last one feel like a birthday party."

"At least no one's been tortured today," Padma replied.

"_Yet_. Daphne, it's two minutes until eleven. We've got it covered on this end."

She nodded at Anthony. "You two going to be okay?"

"Positive."

"I have my Galleon. If you need it—"

"Daphne. Just _go._"

She waved at the pair of Ravenclaw prefects and started walking towards the corridor that led to the empty classroom. She wasn't sure if Michael was already there, as she had just arrived at the tower. It was quite possible she missed him.

Daphne knocked on the classroom door and chanced cracking it open. "Michael?" She looked around inside the dark classroom, moonlight streaming through the big, cathedral-style windows. "Michael, it's me."

She shut the door behind her. "Michael—"

"Hey, Daphne."

She spun around to her left and saw him. Right as she was about to smile and say hello, he took her face into his hands and gave her a sweltering kiss. His scent of spice and freshly washed linens filled her nose as he snogged her for the second time that day. Michael's fingers wove into her hair, pulling her closer to him and he led her to bench, gently guiding her to sit down.

He sat down next her, kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her nose. Daphne could see him smiling in the moonlight.

"I really missed you." Michael touched his head to hers. She smiled, letting herself enjoy the warmth of his presence. "Your holiday was all right, then?"

"Mmm . . . there were some things that happened—"

"Things? What things?" He looked at her, slightly alarmed.

"I'll tell you later, okay? But, I've got something to give you. It's, well, it's more important than what happened during my holiday." Daphne stood up and opened her robes. Thanking Merlin that it was still dark so he couldn't see her blush, she lifted up leg and started rolling down her stockings.

Daphne sensed him shift in his seat, and heard him let out a meek groan, one that told her exactly what was going through his mind.

"I thought you said we weren't going to do that."

"Calm down, Mikey!" She giggled. "Boys!"

"Well . . . we're going to have to find some time so we can, y'know—"

"What? Play Quidditch, so you can catch the Snitch again?"

"Y-yeah."

Daphne grinned and shook her head, and tapped her wand to her calf, muttering the incantation softly. "Is that all blokes think about?"

"Pretty much. Terry reckons we think about it every ten seconds. And it gets exponentially worse once you've actually done it."

"Cheeky monkey." Daphne peeled away the brown parcel that the twins and Molly had helped hide on her leg. She held it out to Michael in both her hands.

"This is for you. What I did on Christmas Day. We visited a safe-house. Can't tell you which one, but you'll understand when you see what this is."

Michael stared at her, perplexed. "For me?"

"Yes. You should read it. And you should look at the picture inside."

"A picture? Mm-hm. This is getting very interesting." Michael cocked his eyebrow and chuckled softly.

"Not in _that_ way, you prat."

"Such a shame." He unsealed the folded parchment, and opened the letter.

"You need to read this under better light," Daphne said, pulling out her wand. "_Lumos!_" The tip lit up the area enough to allow Michael to read the note.

He started reading out loud, in a jovial voice. "'Dearest Michael, it's felt like ages since your father and I saw you . . .'"

His voice faded, his face melting into shock. Daphne could hear the soft flutter of paper as his hand trembled, his breath halting and nervous. Time felt like it had stopped as the realization dawned on him that this was a message from his parents.

He read the rest of the letter to himself, his eyes scanning every line, swishing back and forth in the light of the wand. A few times, Daphne heard Michael sniffling and she could see him wipe his nose. Other moments, he smiled, even letting himself laugh as he read. "Mum's such a sap."

"She said you'd say that."

Michael gazed at her, hardly believing what she had just said. "You met them?"

"I did. They personally gave me the letter, and we took a picture together."

He scrambled to the end of the note and to the photograph attached to it at the bottom. Daphne had secured it to the parchment with a little bit of Spellotape to ensure she wouldn't lose it. It felt like an eternity passed in the seconds that Michael stared at the image, holding it up closer to Daphne's wand to see every little bit of detail that he could.

"Th-they're waving, Daphne. My mum has her arm around you." She could tell his eyes were shining in the low light, hear his awestruck voice and the smallest tremble coming from the back of his throat. "Merlin . . . is that _Ginny_?"

"She met your parents too."

He guffawed and slouched against the desk. He ruffled his hair as he continued to stare at the letter and photograph. His fingers were pressed against his lips; for the first time, Michael Corner was at a loss of what to say.

"They asked all sorts of questions about you," Daphne began softly. "And Terry. There's a mural on the wall of the safe-house, with drawings of the victims of the attack in November."

He said nothing, but his eyes were wide and roamed over her face. Even in the soft illumination, Daphne could see the moisture building in his eyes and the tremor in his jaw.

"There was drawing, a nice one, of Terry's parents. Their names and an epitaph." She bit her lip. "Terry's dad was holding a football."

Michael let out a long, shaky breath. "Merlin."

"They asked me a lot of questions about you. And Anthony and Terry. They were really worried about you three. Um," she mumbled. Maybe it would be all right to bring a bit of levity to the moment. "I refrained from saying that we shagged the night before we left Hogwarts."

He chuckled softly. "Wise move. Thanks for that."

"They're really nice. That's what I thought at least. Dunno if they liked me."

"Daphne, look at the picture again." He pointed at her image and she angled her wand so the light covered a broader area of photograph. The smile Michael's mum wore as she hugged her was truly warm and familiar; Daphne had seen it many times before on her son's face. John Corner, too, looked down at her; there seemed to be real happiness emanating from both adults.

Wiping his eyes, Michael managed to flash Daphne a truly joyful expression. "This is the best Christmas present I've ever gotten. I can't believe you met them. And took a picture with them."

"Courtesy of Colin Creevey."

"Creevey, eh? I'm going to thank him as soon as I see him again." Michael continued to study the photograph, shaking his head back and forth still stunned at this belated present.

"Honestly, it was Molly and Arthur who made this possible. I think they arranged the visit so we could celebrate Christmas at the safe-house and so I could meet them and give you this letter. Really, you should thank Ginny's parents."

He nodded again. "Maybe I will, but first." Michael laid the parchment on the desk behind him. Cupping Daphne's cheek with his hands, he tenderly pulled her face towards his, kissing her with fluttering lips. His touch was so light and soft at first, Daphne could barely believe his lips were on hers. Slowly, it built in intensity, his mouth firm and strong, but never too much. She grasped at his robes, at his jumper, once again letting everything that was Michael Corner fill her from the centre out until she felt like exploding.

"I love you." He whispered the words against her lips. "I love you so bloody much."

Daphne shut her eyes, wanting to say it back. But it always sounded empty in return. Spontaneous declarations were the best, the most real, in her opinion. And surely he knew how she felt about him, since she brought him this note.

"I do too." It was all she could manage in a choked voice; she hoped it would be enough. When she felt him touch her hair, his arms wrapping around her waist, pressing her close to him, Daphne thought maybe he knew exactly what she was thinking.

After a few more minutes, both teenagers got up and adjusted themselves. They needed to get back to their respective destinations. Michael to the Ravenclaw common room and Daphne to finish the last few minutes of her patrols.

"Daphne, tomorrow in Muggle Studies, whatever happens, don't interfere. Okay? Not with me or Tony or Terry or—"

Her peaceful mood was wrenched away with his warning. " What do you mean, don't interfere? What the hell do you lot have planned?" Michael had the same odd glint in his eyes, the same nervous hitch of his voice as he did on the day Terry was tortured.

When he had implied to Daphne that he would be willing to take Terry's punishment.

She felt her stomach churn at the thought of Michael being strung up in the dungeons, leather whip cutting into the skin of his back, making him bleed. "Michael, just remember — you don't have to do anything in front of them." She laid her hand on his face, her fingers rubbing small circles on his temple. "You're going to get hurt."

Instead of replying to her outright, Michael kissed her nose. "You're going to be all right? For the rest of your patrols?"

"I'm heading down to the hospital wing now to meet Blaise Zabini. He'll be with me under his Invisibility Cloak."

He looked at her, his gaze far more intense than usual. "I wish I could be there and protect you."

"Michael, I can take care of myself." Daphne felt her tummy swoop as he looked at her, sensing that his feelings and concern far deeper and stronger more than he was verbalizing. She couldn't help but remember his mum's words—

("_Ravenclaw men._")

("_They all seem to have been touched with the heart of a poet_.")

"Not saying you can't protect yourself. Just saying that I wish I could." Flashing her one last smile, he opened the door and headed towards the staircase leading up to the Ravenclaw common room. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, more worried about him and his mates than she had ever been before.


	44. Chapter 43: Ravenclaws Make a Stand

**A/N: **I am so sorry about the delay in getting this chapter up, and about how behind in review replies I am. I've been consumed by my job, real life, Las Vegas, and another fandom, namely the Star Trek: 2009 movie fandom. If you liked the movie at all, I invite you to read my two Star Trek stories — "The Things He Sees" (here at: fanfiction . net/s/5056873/1/The_Things_He_Sees), and "The Test" (here at: fanfiction . net/s/5062827/1/The_Test). I'm also working on an Uhura genfic story, and now, thanks to a challenge by my buddy respitechristopher over at the Sober Universe, I'm writing a Harry Potter story with a rather unique (femmeslash) coupling.

This chapter was inspired by the amazing Misanagi, and her fantastic Michael-centric story, "The House of Blue" (here at: fanfiction . net/s/4554130/1/), wherein she mentions a Ravenclaw rebellion against the Carrows. I took that idea and ran with it, but if you have not checked out her story, do so. And immediately! Her Michael is pure love.

Hopefully, this chapter has been worth the wait.

* * *

**Chapter 43: Ravenclaws Make a Stand**

The start of the new term brought a whole set of new anxieties, particularly for Daphne Greengrass.

Once breakfast was done, the Great Hall began to empty. The prefects lined the students up to go to their respective classes, and the rows moved out, disbursing throughout the castle to start the first day of the new term. Hagrid led a group of younger students outside for Care of Magical Creatures. A small, steady stream of students walked down into the dungeons towards Potions and up the Grand Staircase to Transfiguration, Charms . . .

As well as Dark Arts and Muggle Studies.

Daphne finished escorting two groups of third and fourth years to Transfiguration. She reached into the deep pockets of her robes, making sure her Wheezes were right where she had left them. She had snagged a couple of sweets from her Skiving Snackbox in case they might come in handy. She thought of making this a habit for the rest of the year; keep some Wheezes close to her to fake injuries.

She withdrew her hand at the same time that she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Greengrass," Ernie Macmillan said in an overly loud and pompous voice. "A word, if you will." Susan stood next to him, pursing her lips together in an exaggerated pout.

Daphne sneered at both of them. "Make it short, Macmillan. I'm far too busy to deal with your inanities!" She beckoned them over to a quiet corner of the corridor, as students started filing into the Muggle Studies classroom. They dropped the hostile act, Ernie and Susan both looking at Daphne with ill-hidden grins.

"'Inanities'? That's quite the word," Susan said with a raised eyebrow.

"What? Snape says it all the time. Thought it'd give that little show the extra Slytherin _oompf_. So, what's going on?"

"How easy will it be for you to steal more Veritaserum from Slughorn?" Ernie's voice was barely a whisper; Daphne almost didn't hear what he had said.

"What?"

"More Veritaserum. Do you have any left from September? Can you get any more? We might need it."

She blinked. "We have probably about eight doses left of that initial batch I nicked earlier."

"We'll need more than that." It was Susan this time. Her blue eyes were steely as she spoke. "What did we figure, Ernie? Enough for twenty doses?"

"_Twenty_?"

"Make it closer to twenty-five. Maybe thirty just to be on the safe side."

She stared at Susan. "What the hell are you two planning?"

The two Hufflepuffs both shrugged in a far too casual manner. He turned to Daphne, the tone of his voice nonchalant. "Nothing bad, don't worry. But do you think you can get some more?"

Daphne scratched her chin. "Well, Slughorn should have some more supplies, provided he's been able to gather all the ingredients _and_ completed the two week brewing process." She nodded at him solemnly. "I'll check. And I'll get you what's remaining in the bottle that I have. I should have an answer for you in a couple of days."

The Hufflepuffs smiled at her. "Thanks Daphne," Susan said with a nod.

"You're not going to say what you need it for, are you?"

"Not until absolutely necessary."

She glared at Ernie, finally waving her hand. "Fine. We should get going. Apparently, there might be a big show today in Muggle Studies involving some idiot Ravenclaws."

Ernie's brow creased, but he smirked at Daphne's comment. "Isn't that a contradiction? Idiot Ravenclaws?"

"Does Michael have anything to do with this?"

Daphne huffed at Susan and looked at the classroom, her heart skipping as she caught Michael walking in with his other Housemates. They were patting each other on the back and Michael and Terry were holding out their fists to Anthony. He tapped theirs in an obvious gesture of solidarity.

"How should I know?" she spat back. "_I'm _not supposed to do anything to stop them."

* * *

"Thank you, Vincent, for that insightful presentation."

Vincent Crabbe bowed his head, grinning triumphantly as he received Alecto Carrow's compliments. She had just called on someone from Slytherin House to read aloud their assignments that she had tasked them with over Christmas holidays—

To write about various acts of Muggle violence, disease and degradation. Par for the course in Alecto's class.

For her assignment, Daphne managed about half-a-foot — in her biggest handwriting possible — and focused on the Holocaust. Unfortunately, it didn't have a particularly well-rounded viewpoint, in that she didn't delve deeply into the efforts by Muggle military forces to liberate the concentration camps, or the uprisings in the ghetto communities or any other broad statement of the resilience of Muggle spirit that that horrible moment in history had shown. But she had to consider the audience.

Including anything positive regarding Muggles could earn her the Cruciatus Curse and might open further suspicion that she was connected to the pro-Potter contingent of the student body.

As Crabbe sat down, Daphne thought that she was going to be sick remembering what he wrote. It was one thing to talk about Muggle disease and plagues; it was another thing to pass bullshit as the truth. Bubonic plague and influenza at least had a basis in history, but Daphne had no idea where Crabbe got the idea that there was a disease that made Muggles eat each other like savage cannibals and it was only the covert intervention of the Magical world that was able to cure the scourge before it could spread beyond Europe.

Alecto beat her palm with her wand; red sparks flew out of it, reminding Daphne of the Cruciatus Curse. The Unforgivable loomed above them, especially today as she anticipated what the Ravenclaws were going to do.

Carrow stomped around the desks, gracelessly manoeuvring around the space. The Muggle Studies classroom was packed tight with every seventh year from Slytherin to Hufflepuff. So filled was the classroom that it felt as if the room would burst from the overcrowding. Daphne had been lucky that Blaise had saved a seat next to him, which was behind the other Slytherins save for Theodore and Millicent. Pansy Parkinson sat directly in front of them with Tracey Davis.

Pansy's eyes kept flickering over to Draco Malfoy as he sat in the desk nearest the wall. He had spread out on his bench, his back leaning against the stone. He tapped his finger lazily against his own parchment, smirking occasionally at Crabbe as the boy read haltingly from his assignment. Daphne noticed Draco's skin, which was even paler than before. He had a sickly pallor about him, similar to last year when he had been struggling with whether or not to kill Dumbledore.

Except for his hands, which were red and blotchy, as if they had been scalded and still retained those painful scars. Otherwise, Draco looked fatigued and grey, and Daphne couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy — again — for him, despite his more bastard-like qualities.

She also felt disgusted that Draco, according to Blaise, may have a crush on her. It was odd. Disturbing. Daphne didn't like the thought of feeling objectified by the ferret if he felt he needed an attachment to something good.

However, despite everything she knew about Draco, Daphne still felt a small degree of compassion for him, although every cell in her brain telling her that he didn't deserve it.

"Now."

Alecto's voice snapped Daphne out of her thoughts. "Let us hear from one of the little Eagles."

Daphne felt her heart race; this was it, an open invitation for Michael and his Housemates to do whatever the hell it was that they were going to do.

(_And for you to stay out of it._)

(_Over my dead body!_)

(_That's a distinct possibility._)

Slowly, shakily, Anthony Goldstein raised his hand. Michael sat next to him, clenching the edge of their desk, his knuckles turning white. Daphne held her breath, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

"_Goldstein_." Alecto strode towards him. "You're volunteering for your House?"

"I am." Anthony stood up to his full height. Daphne noted with satisfaction that he was several centimetre's taller than the stocky Death Eater. He seemed heartened by this and he squared his shoulders, even as his parchment shook from nerves.

Alecto started making her way to the front of the classroom. He cleared his throat and began talking, his voice cracking.

"'H-Hogwarts Code of Student Conduct'—"

The Death Eater stopped walking.

"—'Section thirty-nine, rule thirteen, amendment five point five st-states that students may abstain from completing assignments that they f-find morally, ethically, or otherwise personally repugnant.'"

The entire class stilled. Daphne gasped. She looked over at Blaise, who swore under his breath, muttering, "Arse," as quietly as he could to not draw anyone's attentions. The Hufflepuffs, the ones involved in Dumbledore's Army, as well as Tamsin Applebee, Heidi Macavoy and the wizards Ewan Cadwallader and Wayne Hopkins — a bloke Daphne had a fling with during fifth year — watched the scene unfold with unmistakable pride. Only Zacharias Smith had an outright disdainful look, although Daphne noted the similarity between Smith's expression and Blaise's. Both wizards probably would've rather Anthony just shut up instead of drawing attention to himself.

The Gryffindors watched the whole thing with varying reactions of awe and approval. Neville held up his fist and grinned. The other seventh year Ravenclaws stared at Alecto's with nervous defiance. The rest of the classroom focused their eyes on Anthony. He gulped, but continued reading.

"'Should the student find said assignment objectionable on any of these personal grounds, th-they are to submit to the teacher and to the Headmaster or Headmistress in writing notice of their objections. The t-teacher may not discipline said student if the objections are made with good and reasonable intent, but they may arrange for a meeting to discuss the conflict the student has with the assignment in question. This meeting may be attended by the following: the Headmaster or Headmistress, the teacher and the student, or students, affected by the objectionable assignment. The primary objective of said meeting will be to reach an acceptable compromise.'"

Anthony shook the parchment. Alecto's back was still turned, but Daphne saw her spinning her wand in her hand, just like Snape did before he asked her to curse Luna during the first raid.

"Professor Carrow," he continued, his voice growing stronger the more he spoke up, "please accept this written notice that we find your assignments, your lessons, and not just this one, but all the ones you've made us do since the beginning of term, objectionable. We have compiled them into several parchments to give you notice of our objections and we have also given copies to the Headmaster as well, delivering them early this morning. We assume he got them after breakfast."

Slowly, Alecto spun around. She bared her teeth, yellowed with age and lack of care; it gave her the appearance of a hungry animal ready to eat Anthony, the little bird who now taunted her with this show of rebellion.

"_We_? _Who – is – this – 'WE'_?"

With wide-eyed horror, as if watching a train about to collide with another, unable to stop the catastrophe, Daphne stared as Michael Corner, Terry Boot and Padma Patil all stood up at the same time, their stubborn, defiant expressions turned towards the Death Eater. And then, in short succession, Mandy Brocklehurst, Stephen Cornfoot, Lisa Turpin, and Morag MacDougal, who was even taller than Anthony, rose up off of their benches.

"The entire seventh year of Ravenclaw, those of us who _are _here, stand together in agreement that we find your assignments repugnant on several grounds. Therefore, we did not do them."

Alecto stormed towards Anthony. She raised her hand, bringing it behind her head and hit him across the face, as hard as she could. Anthony fell backwards, Michael catching him before he could hit his head on the desk behind theirs.

"_You_! _YOU DISGUSTING TRAITORS_!!" Alecto screamed at the Ravenclaw seventh years. "All of you are going to the dungeons! I'll whip you until your skins turn to mush!"

"Professor," Anthony said as he struggled to get up, clinging to Michael. "I'll remind you that the rule states you may not punish us—"

"_FUCK YOUR RULES!" _Alecto flicked her wand, tearing the parchment into shreds. "I'd piss and _shit_ on them if I could!"

The Ravenclaws continued to stand at their desks, staring at Alecto. Daphne noticed that Mandy, Stephen and Lisa were trembling and panting, yet they did not sit down. Crabbe, Goyle and Draco Malfoy had their wands whipped out, ready to hex them if commanded.

She had to stop this, this _madness_! And sod Michael for telling her to not get involved; at this point, anything she could do to prevent bodily harm to them, she'd do it.

"Professor!" Daphne screeched. For added effect, she stood at the attention stance, her arms crossed in front of her chest, her wand pressed against her upper arm, gritting her teeth to prevent her face from quivering from nerves and fear.

"Greengrass, you have something to say?" Alecto walked towards her, her wand extended in front of her, still sparking. Red.

Like the Cruciatus.

Daphne collected her thoughts, managing to catch Michael as he stared at her, horrified. It looked like he was standing still, but Daphne could tell his head was shaking in small vibrations. He wanted her to back down.

Adopting her most cruel sneer, Daphne imbued her voice with forced malice, accurately imitating Alecto's cruel tone. "Allow me to escort them to the dungeons. It would be an honour to serve you in this capacity."

To her pleased shock, her ruse seemed to have worked. Alecto blinked and a grin broke out on her face. "For once, Greengrass, you've impressed me."

Daphne bowed her head. "Thank you, Professor Carrow." She choked back a gag.

The Death Eater nodded. "Mister Malfoy, you and Miss Greengrass will escort these disgraceful—"

"Actually, Professor, I want to do it myself."

Alecto raised her eyebrow. "Oh?"

"You don't think I can't handle a bunch of silly Eagles? They know nothing other than what they read in books! I'm a Slytherin!" Her lip curled. "I know how to throw a decent Cruciatus. If they get out of hand, I'll disintegrate them myself. This'll be nothing."

She matched Alecto's arrogant expression with her own.

"Greengrass, they're all yours. Escort them. We'll have that _meeting_ after classes are done for the day." The Death Eater turned her cold smile on the Ravenclaws. "All of you! Out the door now! Miss Greengrass will use any and all means available to her to ensure you reach the dungeons, you vermin."

She flicked her hand at them to dismiss the group.

Anthony moved towards the door, his eyes wide as he looked over at Daphne. Michael's mouth was pulled together; his face was turning red too. She knew he was angry, and would probably rail at her for getting involved.

She followed the last two Ravenclaws, Mandy Brocklehurst and Stephen Cornfoot, out the door, making sure she flung it shut behind her.

As soon as they turned a corner, walking towards the Grand Staircase, several paces away from the classroom, Michael halted and rounded on Daphne. "What did I say yesterday about interfering?"

The others stopped and stared at the couple, various expressions of surprise and gaping shock plastered on their faces. Anthony, Terry and Padma stepped aside but watched them as they argued.

"In case you missed it, Michael, I _saving _you lot from that sadist!" she hissed.

"Saved us?" This came from Morag MacDougal, whose imposing figure pressed close into Daphne's personal space. Suddenly, she remembered that Morag was one of the Ravenclaw beaters, and probably not someone she wanted to get into a physical altercation with. "You're taking us to the dungeons! '_I know how to throw a decent Cruciatus!_' In my book — since you think that's all we're about — that makes you as bad as they are!"

"Morag, step back! Let me take care of this—"

"What the hell, Mike? Take care of what? This Slytherin _bint's _just serving her Death Eater overlords. She doesn't give a rat's arse about us!"

Terry stepped forward. "Oi, _Rag_! You don't know what you're on about."

"I hate that blasted nickname!"

"Morag, please," Padma pleaded. "You don't really know Daphne, all right?"

"_Daphne_?" Lisa Turpin said, her face a disgusted cowl. "You're on a first-name basis with _her_?"

Daphne was about to give MacDougal a piece of her mind, but Michael held her back. "Enough!" he said cautiously, "None of you know what you're talking about."

Morag's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What _I'm_ talking about? She's the one taking us to the dungeons. _She's _the one that cursed Luna in the first raid! And I don't know what I'm talking about . . ."

Suddenly, Stephen Cornfoot gasped. He pointed at Michael and Daphne. "Oh! Oh bloody hell! She's the—! You and her've still got your little thing going on, don't you?"

Michael and Daphne both stared at him, and then at each other.

"Mike, is this true? You're still with her?" Morag asked.

Michael glared at his mates flatly. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am." Daphne smacked him in the gut.

"That's supposed to be a secret!"

"Well, MacDougal's about to kick your arse, and I know from personal experience that that she'll be able to whomp you good." Michael turned to the taller girl. "Daphne and I are together. She was trying to help."

"Fat lot of good her 'help' did us!" The Scottish girl mimicked quotation marks with her fingers. "She has to take us to the dungeons, in case you've already forgotten."

Daphne shook her head, but she never took her eyes off of the sullen — and rather scary — Ravenclaw witch. "That's the thing. You lot aren't going to the dungeons." She held out two Wheezes: a Blistering Bon-Bon and a Swelling Sweet. "I need one of you to Stun me, all right? Like it's an attack. I'll use my wand to fire a couple of Cruciatus Curses, in case they check my wand for spells." She turned to Michael. "Then get away. Back to your common room or hide out or whatever."

"Even if we run, they'll still come after us. They'll tear up Ravenclaw and they'll probably Cruciate us anyways," Mandy Brocklehurst interjected.

"Maybe Flitwick and the other teachers can run interference. After all, you were following the student code to the best of your knowledge," Daphne replied. "And I made a valiant effort to stop you, but it was to no avail."

"Daphne, I don't want to curse you," Michael pled quietly.

"The way I see it, you don't have much of a choice!"

It was Anthony who strode forwards. "Mike, if you don't Stun her, I'll do it."

"Tony!"

"I don't want to, but she's got a point. We'll go find Flitwick and tell him what happened. Maybe we can minimize the damage to Ravenclaw if we think of something in time."

"One of you had better curse me and quick!" Daphne aimed her wand at a tapestry behind them. "_CRUCIO_!" she yelled.

The chill that normally covered her whenever she had been forced to cast it one other time surged through her, like a cold shockwave. Her body felt like she had been dipped into a bath of slime and goo, but she watched as her spell hit the rock wall and tapestry. The group flinched as little chunks of wall blew in the air like brown dust.

She aimed her wand again at a large vase.

"_Crucio_!"

This time, her spell casting was less intense, but no less icky feeling. Her spell chipped a bit of the vase's lip and struck the wall behind it, leaving a singe mark.

Daphne turned back to Michael and popped both Wheezes into her mouth, chewing them and swallowing in one gulp, practically going down the wrong pipe.

"Michael, please! The Wheezes're going to take effect any minute. Stun me or let someone else do it."

He shook his head, but he pulled out his wand. "You shouldn't have gotten involved in this, Daphne."

"Should've, would've, could've. Now, get going!"

Daphne watched as Michael readied his wand. "You know how I feel about you—"

"You're stalling! Just do it!"

Shutting his eyes, he gave his wand a flick. "_Stupefy_!"

The Stunning Spell hit Daphne right in her upper chest. She arched backwards as she fell to the ground, fancying she could hear the quick footfalls of the Ravenclaws running away as the whole world went black.

* * *

Daphne stirred.

Her eyes opened slowly, and she hissed as the overly bright light from the room slammed into her pupils. Shaking her head, she lifted her hand, which felt like she was moving it through sludge, and pressed it over her face. Daphne became aware that something softer than the cold stone floor of Hogwarts surrounded her body—

Her rather overly swollen body.

"Ohhh . . ." she moaned. She grasped her head in her hands, realizing how puffy and how much bigger it was than normal.

(_The Swelling Sweet._)

Something popped on her skin; looking down, she saw several boils that covered her hand. And pus that had erupted from one of them.

(_The Blistering Bon-Bon._)

And then she remembered.

"Oh for the love of— " Daphne sat up in her bed, finally realizing she was behind one of Pomfrey's screens. "Hospital Wing."

"Hello, beautiful."

She turned to her right and saw Blaise Zabini's smirking face. "How're you doing, _sweetheart_?"

"Feel like kneazle shit." She coughed, her throat excessively dry. "How long've I been out?"

"Since this morning. It's three o'clock in the afternoon. Weasley and Longbottom were already in here, checking up on you." He leaned down, whispering as quietly as he could. "Longbottom says Saturday, in the Room. First meeting."

She nodded, deliberately. "Good."

"And, by the way, you look smashing, dear. Y'know, for a hag."

"C-Can I see? Is there a mirror around here?"

Blaise was ready with one. He held one up for her. "I will not be responsible for any heart attack you might have looking at your own reflection."

Daphne grasped the handle and moved it until she could see herself. Her face had expanded to nearly five times its normal size. Her skin was crimson red and she was covered in the biggest, nastiest, pus-filled blisters she had ever seen.

She yelped. "Bloody hell!"

At the same time the mirror did.

"_AAACK!! MONSTER!! MONSTER IN HOSPITAL WING!!_"

The mirror's little outburst snapped Daphne out of her stupor. "I'm not a monster!"

Blaise snatched the mirror as it continued to scream in fear. He reached into his robes and pulled out two pieces of green and blue candy. "Here you go. I took one look at you and diagnosed you with an acute case of Wheeze digestion. So did Eddie, in fact. Pomfrey had to be convinced that she didn't need to run any tests on you "

Daphne took the Snackbox remedies and tossed them into her mouth, chewing them very slowly. She grabbed the mirror again, and thrust it in front of her face. The glass wouldn't shut up.

"_OH! THE HORROR! THE HORROR . . . !!_"

Before Daphne's eyes, her face deflated, returning to its normal state. The disgusting blisters receded and disappeared altogether. Her skin smoothed out until it was back to her normal pale hue.

"Oh! Well, my dear, that's much better."

Daphne scowled at the mirror and set it down. "All right, do we know what happened with the others?" She kept her voice low, a hushed whisper. "Did the Ravenclaws make it back all right?"

Blaise's smile fell and he crooked his finger. "Follow me." He stood up and held his hand out. Daphne crawled out of her bed and, her hand in his, moved outside the screen and into the Hospital wing proper. But she didn't have to move far into the room to see.

Her breath halted in her throat, her stomach fell onto the floor and she nearly stumbled into Blaise. He caught her before she could fall completely.

"Oh no."

The other side of the Hospital Wing was filled with the Ravenclaws that had stood up to Alecto Carrow that very morning. Their eyes were shut and there were bandages on their faces, arms, and legs. She left Blaise's side and scanned the row for, looking for him.

She found Michael at the very end, sleeping. His body was pretty badly bruised. He had bandages on his top lip and the right side of his forehead. It looked like two of his fingers of his wand hand were wrapped with a splint. To top it off, he had what looked like the start of two black eyes developing rapidly.

Daphne's hand pressed against her lips. "They got them. They got them despite my efforts. Michael . . ."

She felt Blaise tug her back. "Snape's coming."

Daphne composed herself right as the Headmaster entered the Hospital Wing, followed by Draco Malfoy. Draco took one look at her and sneered. She glared back at him, her eyes narrowing.

"Miss Greengrass," Snape said, with his characteristic drawl.

Daphne stood at attention, bowing her head. "Headmaster."

"I take it that you've recovered from the attack earlier in the day?"

She mustered up all the attitude she could and jutted her chin out in a defiant manner. "These Ravenclaws seemed to have a few tricks up their sleeves, sir. I, unfortunately, was outnumbered."

Snape pursed his mouth. "Indeed."

"Perhaps, Greengrass, you should've let me come with you," Draco said, sauntering forwards to stand in front of her, his hands thrust into his pockets. He leaned into her, and whispered in her ear. "I could've protected you from these mean little birds."

She could hear the sneer in his voice.

"Yes, Draco. I'll bet _both _of us could've taken all seven of them." She shoved past Draco and walked up to Snape. "What happened to them?"

Snape stood next to Michael's bed, cocking his eyebrow at the still slumbering wizard. "After your _skirmish_ with the Ravenclaws, they ran straight for their Head of House. Flitwick came to my office to plead their case with me." A smile spread across his face. "I told them that the Hogwarts Code of Student Conduct was no longer applicable, since I succeeded Dumbledore, and these _students_ had, therefore, disobeyed a direct order given to them by Alecto Carrow. Then I gave them a choice."

"A choice? Sir?"

"Either accept punishment for themselves, or allow their entire House to suffer for their transgressions."

Daphne swallowed, blinking rapidly so as to erase any possible tears that might be forming. "S-so you punished them?"

Snape cocked his eyebrow, his smile curdling her blood. "I did not."

"But then, who did?"

It dawned on her. Only seven beds were occupied, instead of eight.

"Sir," Daphne began, as she looked down the row of unconscious Ravenclaws, "where's An-" She coughed, covering up her mistake. "Where's Goldstein?"

"I see _nothing _escapes your notice, Greengrass. Goldstein was the only one spared from punishment. _Physical_ punishment at least."

"S-sir, I don't follow you." Although her sense of dread grew the more Snape spoke.

"Since it was Goldstein's insolence that led to this little insurrection, and the one who had the idea in the first place, we gave to him the task of punishing his Housemates."

Her jaw dropped. "He tortured them?"

"Oh, he protested. But, in the end, nobody can resist the Imperius Curse. It gave him just the right impetus to punish these idiots."

Snape strode forwards, standing so close to her, she could practically see up his beak-like nose.

"Don't you _dare _pity him, Greengrass! He knew the risks, and he led his so-called friends down the rabbit hole with him."

Daphne turned away. She couldn't look at Snape, at the bastard's revolting joy at the damage he and the Carrows had wrought on her friends. On Michael. On Anthony too. Goldstein must have been devastated when he realized what he had done.

"Don't forget, Greengrass. You and Malfoy are on patrol tonight. Don't let the attack on you stand in the way of your duties."

With a click of his heels, Snape left the Hospital Wing. Draco Malfoy, however, stayed behind, watching Daphne with an inscrutable expression.

"What do you want, Draco?"

He didn't wear the same Malfoy sneer that had during Alecto's Muggle Studies class. Instead, his grey eyes flickered between Daphne and Blaise, who had remained silent during Snape and Daphne's conversation.

"Blaise, you were here when Greengrass woke up?"

Blaise was startled by the question. "I was."

Draco nodded. "You know, Greengrass, you seemed so confident in Muggle Studies. Confident that you could take on the Ravenclaws if necessary."

She gritted her teeth, but tried to keep her expression mild. "I was wrong."

"So you were." He paused; Daphne reckoned it was for dramatic effect. "Before I forget, Amycus wants to see us tomorrow. After dinner."

He pivoted around to walk out of the wing, but stopped and turned back to face her, his hand on the doorframe of the exit.

"We're to meet him in the dungeons. He says he needs our help with something."

Without another word, Draco swept down the corridor, and all Daphne could do was face Blaise, dread evident on both of their faces.


	45. Chapter 44: Punishing a Snake

**A/N: ** Again, I apologize profusely for the extremely long delay in getting this chapter up. I do blame real life, work and travel over the past couple of months; June was not a productive writing month for me. I've been sitting on this chapter for a few weeks because, well, I'm having difficulty writing the next few chapters out. Pesky writer's block!! I know what I want to write, but it's not coming out like I want it to. And I really do not know when I'm going to have the next chapter finished.

Thank you to all my readers, who have been extraordinarily patient with me waiting for this update. I do hope you enjoy this. Hopefully, I can sit down and try to hammer out another chapter; I ask is for your continued patience. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing and favoriting (and for your infinite patience!)

**

* * *

Chapter 44: Punishing a Snake**

Ginny Weasley had thought that maybe, just maybe, things were going to be different. With the way term had already started out, that wasn't bloody likely.

News of the Ravenclaws' stand against Alecto Carrow spread like Fiendfyre throughout the school, practically the instant it happened. Neville and the other D.A. seventh years who had witnessed it had snuck their Galleons out during class and delivered messages to the others,

Ginny still didn't have her D.A. Galleon, having given it to Colin in the safe-house on Christmas Day. She also hadn't had a chance to ask Anthony for a replacement. Not that the Galleon was entirely necessary, as Neville and the other Gryffindors practically stampeded towards her.

"Gin, never underestimate the brilliance of the Ravenclaw seventh years! You should've seen them!" Neville launched into a play-by-play, complete with Daphne's rather impressive acting job and intervention.

"Daphne, though. She was insane! Scarily impressive."

"Imitated the Carrow bint word for word," Seamus added.

Ginny shook her head. "I wish I had seen it."

However, the details about what happened after they left Muggle Studies made their way to the rest of the student body, thanks to the boasting of Crabbe, Goyle and their goons. Following lunch, Neville and Ginny visited the injured seventh years and Daphne.

"Oh Merlin!" Ginny exclaimed breathlessly. They were by the doors of the Hospital Wing, but they could see the Ravenclaws all lying in a row, their bodies and faces bruised and bandaged, their injuries almost as bad as Neville's at the beginning of last term, but far less than Terry's, who still bore the scars of the whipping Carrow had given him in December.

They walked down the row, until Neville realized someone was missing.

"Where's Anthony?"

"Got there, have you?" The drawling voice came from behind a set of screens on the opposite side of the room. The two Gryffindors watched as Blaise Zabini approached them, his face more sombre than normal. "Eddie said Snape gave the Ravenclaws a decision: face punishment for their uprising or have retribution fall upon their entire House. They chose the former, but Snape demanded Goldstein curse them, since he was the one that led the whole idiotic show!" He snorted, ignoring the glares Neville and Ginny shot his direction. "The whole thing was _very_ Gryffindor of them. Gryffindor with a twist of Ravenclaw's love for obscure, meaningless rules, going to the student code like that." The Slytherin wearily shook his head. "Unfortunately Snape disagreed with Goldstein's idea, and he forced him to torture the others."

Ginny stilled, her breath catching in her throat. "_Forced_ Anthony?"

Blaise nodded. "The Imperius Curse."

She looked over at Neville. His eyes weren't even on Blaise; instead, he was staring at the beds in front of him, filled with the witches and wizards who had somehow lived up to and transcended the very definition of what it was to be a Ravenclaw.

They left the Hospital Wing after checking on a still-sleeping Daphne, who rather resembled one of the twins' test subjects. Neville waited until they were out in the hallway to start speaking again.

"He Imperiused Anthony to torture his best friends." He shook his head, clearly numb from the news.

"We should go find him. Talk to him and make sure he knows this wasn't his fault."

Neville shook his head. "No. _I _should go, Gin." He nodded back towards the castle. "Go on with the rest of your day."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah I am. It's part of leading, you know? I let Luna carry the weight taking care of Terry last term. Now, it's my turn. I'll go find Anthony and get him to see reason."

The tone of Neville's voice allowed no debate.

Ginny acquiesced and they parted ways. She tried to carry on with her lessons and meals, but her mind ran through a million different thoughts. Her nightmares, her family, and now coming back to school and watching her friends getting hurt left and right. . . .

The evening came and Ginny sat on a couch in the Gryffindor common room, discussing the morning's events with the Seamus, Lavender and Parvati. Several younger Gryffindors joined them. They stayed up late into the night, waiting for Neville to return.

About twelve o'clock, after his patrol ended, Neville walked through the portrait door and flashed Ginny a small smile and held his thumbs up, sending a wave of relief through the Gryffindors. Ginny shut her eyes thanking Merlin that Neville seemed to have things under control.

* * *

Ginny soon realized that Neville having things under control meant that applied to all members of the D.A., not just to Anthony Goldstein.

"Gin, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure, Neville."

They were in the common room, preparing for the trek to the Great Hall. Ginny noticed with a pit in her chest that her dorm-mates, Cosima Ramsay and Ursula Beckham, were standing very close to Neville, wringing their hands with worry and apprehension.

She felt crabby enough to whip out her wand and cast her Bat-Bogey Hex on them; she had a sneaking suspicion about why they had been talking to Neville.

(_Stupid bloody dreams!_)

He turned to the others. "Go on, we'll meet you in the Great Hall. Parvati, can you make sure the other Gryffindor prefects surround the House? Protect the younger ones and help them get down to the hall without any troubles. Stay alert."

Parvati winked at him. "Of course! We wouldn't let up on that." She walked through the portrait door, directing the Gryffindors using Neville's orders.

Cosima headed for the entrance, shooting Ginny an apologetic grin. Ursula managed a weak, "Morning, Gin."

She glared at both of them as they hurried out the portrait. Neville waited for the last couple of Gryffindors to leave.

"You wanted to see me?"

"How've you been sleeping?"

She hissed and stomped her foot. "Dammit, Cosi!"

"Don't." There was an unfamiliar sternness to Neville's voice, but Ginny could also sense his concern. "Don't get mad at Cosima or Ursula. They came to me because they're worried about you. You were having a horrible nightmare last night. And . . ."

He chewed his tongue, mulling over something. "They said you were having bad dreams towards the end of the last term."

She felt her nostrils flare. "It's nothing I can't handle on my own."

"Gin, you're one of my best friends here. And you're one of the most valuable assets that we have to stand up to the Carrows and Snape. But I want to know what's going on. Did something happen to you? Was it the Carrows? Did they hurt you in any way?"

"_No_! Nev, nothing like that happened." Between Daphne, her dorm-mates, and Neville, she could feel herself getting tired of answering this particular line of questions already.

"Look, I'm not ready to talk about it, all right? Besides, it'll tamper down, I'm sure of it."

"Ginny—"

"I'll go see Pomfrey and Eddie, all right? Will that make you feel better?" Her voice was edgy and sharp; she chalked up to a lack of sleep and incessant questioning about how she was handling her own issues. Only one thing was clear to her: what she was going through was insignificant compared to everything else.

Neville frowned. "It's not about making me feel better. It's about making sure one of my friends, and one of my comrades, isn't hurting. I'm here if you need to talk."

Ginny looked at him, feeling the tension she had been holding inside of her slowly melt. After a moment, she managed to smile. "Thanks. I appreciate that." She gave him a playful punch in his gut, reeling back in surprise. Her eyes scanned his body, finally realizing something that she hadn't before. "Blimey, Nev. You've lost weight! Can't believe I've never noticed."

"What? Oh, yeah." He grinned at her, blushing. "S'pose I haven't been eating as much and, well, maybe those defence drills have something to do with it."

Ginny smiled, this time more broadly than before. "Well, lookin' good, Longbottom!" She winked at him. "Or should we call you _Tight-_bottom?"

"Gin!"

"Just kidding!" She nudged her head towards the portrait door. "I'm hungry. Shall we go ahead and get to breakfast before everything's eaten up?"

He sighed, looking at her amused. "Witches first." He held out his hand and Ginny took the invitation to lead the way.

* * *

Daphne Greengrass kept pace with Draco Malfoy, matching his long steps as best she could. Although he was short, he was still a few centimetres taller than her. His strides were long and purposeful; there was no break in his gait.

And she couldn't help but think he slightly resembled Snape in his movements.

"Bastard," she whispered under her breath.

"What was that?" Draco asked under his breath.

"I said nothing."

They turned the corner of the long corridor, flanked by cells on either side. This was Daphne's first trip into the dungeons, and she hoped, stifling a small gag at the dank smell of mould and rat droppings, that it would be her last.

They found an open cell; Daphne's heart beat a furious tattoo against her ribcage. Light from the sconces on the cell's walls flickered, casting ominous shadows in front of them. She swallowed nervously; there was an elongated shadow of a figure, standing silently inside the chamber.

She knew who it was, without needing to see his face.

"Miss Greengrass. Mister Malfoy."

The two students stood at the entrance. "Good evening Professor Carrow."

"Come in."

The fact that Carrow was speaking in a relatively normal tone didn't make Daphne lower her guard. She remained alert, waving her wand to get rid of the Lumos spell she had cast. It had been her experience that when Amycus Carrow spoke in his calmest voice, he could be his most dangerous.

And right now, he was as cool as steel.

"You needed our help, sir?"

Amycus grinned and stepped aside, revealing a large wooden chair that had been behind him. It resembled one of the chairs behind the teachers' table in the great hall with its slender and tall back, lined with leather in the middle and on its seat. The legs had wrought iron fixtures bolting it firmly to the floor. But Daphne saw nothing outwardly wrong with piece of furniture.

"Miss Greengrass, we acquired this from the Ministry over the holidays."

"I see that, sir." She tried to keep her voice steady like Carrow's; the cold air and her nerves were not helping out matters at all.

"Now, first thing's first. Give your wand to Draco."

"Wh-what?"

"Miss _Greengrass, _I know you're not deaf, girl. Now _give – Draco – your – wand_!"

She followed Amycus' orders, watching Draco as she handed him the piece of wood. He merely kept his eyes on her wand, refusing to look at her as he did so.

"Very good, Miss Greengrass. Take a seat."

Daphne's eyes shifted between the Death Eater and Draco. Carrow was staring at her with a feral glint in his eyes. Malfoy, though, was staring at the ground in front of him, determined not to make eye contact.

"Sir, I don't know—"

"Greengrass, I give the orders around here. Now, get in the chair, or I will _make _you!" He pointed his wand at her, his leer positively predatory.

With a quick nod, she climbed in. To her relief, nothing happened.

"Place your arms on the armrests."

Swallowing her nerves, Daphne complied with the request. She breathed out in relief when nothing happened. But she didn't let her guard down, not for one second. She looked over at Draco, who had both their wands in his hands. He was staring at her knees, pointedly refusing to look at her eyes.

To Daphne's horror, Amycus leaned forwards, his hands tightly covering her wrists.

"_You_ made a mistake yesterday."

She stared at him. "W-well . . . p-poss-possibly." She tried to get her trembling chin under control. She was showing him far too much fear.

"I, as the primary disciplinarian at the school, have a duty to make sure our prefects and Head Girl and Boy do their duties properly. This was an area I was lax on last term, but, I assure you, that'll change. Or how else will you learn that you must keep order?"

"S-so . . . sir, does that mean you'll whip me?" Daphne heard herself speak, her words tripping on themselves, leaving her practically tongue-tied. She struggled to regain composure.

Carrow shook his head vigorously. "_Whip you_? Oh no. No, no, no. I won't whip you." He ran a finger down her cheek and let his hand fall to hers, squeezing them as they rested on chair's arms. She knew he could feel her shivering in disgust. "Tell me — _what_ is Devil's Snare?"

Daphne nodded and recited something close to the textbook definition, having written that particular assignment out for Millicent last year per their deal for Daphne's protection. "It's a vine that traps its victims by tightening its tendrils around them, binding them until they're choked to death."

"Correct. And what is its weakness?"

"Fire, sir."

"Very good, Miss Greengrass." Carrow stood up to his full height and, with his icy sneer widening across his ugly face, flicked his wand, wiggling it in squiggly lines in the air.

Daphne cried out in horror as the tendrils of the plant extended in dark curls from the chair. Before she could even get up, the snare wrapped itself tightly around Daphne's arms and legs, holding her firmly in place. Several bands wound out from the back of the chair and quickly lashed her around her shoulders and her torso, forcing her roughly against the back of her seat.

She jerked, a reflex of being bound against her will. The thick vines tightened even more. She keened as her body stiffened, whimpering as the plant continued to squeeze, nearly suffocating her.

"Stay still, Greengrass." In the dazed fog of her mental shutdown, where all that registered with her was _vinessqueezingthelivingdaylightsoutofher_, Draco's voice seemed to cut through the haze.

"Now have you ever heard about Flameless Burns?" Amycus asked in an icy voice.

She trembled, rivers of sweat running down her face. She couldn't shake her head, for fear of the snare crushing her until she burst. "No," she managed, her voice halting as the constrictive vines seemed to strengthen their grip.

"When the curse touches flesh, it tricks the skin, the nerves and the brain, making the person think they're burning. With repeated use, the skin may even redden and blister, much like it would with an actual burn without disintegrating completely. However, the pain is always the same — it is _always _excruciating, almost as painful as the Cruciatus. Instead of driving you insane after minutes of casting, you feel _nothing_ but burning, as if your hand is on fire and you can't put it out."

Daphne could feel herself shaking. The vines tightened even more.

"Burning in your hands, lasting for hours. Days if I choose. And your brain will never shut down. And since there's no flame, the Devil's Snare _will _stay intact!"

Carrow curled his lip, baring his teeth in a vicious grin. Daphne cried out in earnest; it was inevitable. She was trapped, confined to this chair.

There was no escape.

There was only one thing she could do. With a brow crumpled from her fear of the inevitable, she stammered: "P-punish – _me_. S-sir."

Carrow pointed his wand at her hands. "_USTULO SINE FLAMMARE!!"_

Daphne screamed.

The burning started underneath her nails and seared through each finger. It was sudden and overwhelming, Daphne nearly lost control of her body as she could feel each nerve like it had been set on fire. She jerked hard; she couldn't help it, and the sudden movement caused the Devil's Snare to squeeze her more. It dug into her arms and body, nearly breaking her in half. And maybe that would be a good thing right now. Because she _felt_ it. Every bit of that burn. It felt like she was melting, as if she had just grasped white-hot irons that were now stuck to her hands. She couldn't pull away, she couldn't let go.

She couldn't make it stop.

Daphne kept screaming, her throat shredding from her cries. Her hands clawed and trembled and water streamed from her eyes. The burning felt like it was getting worse, as if skin and muscle were disintegrating. When she looked down, her eyes filled with water, her mind nearly in shock, she saw that her hands were still intact.

She squinted in dim light of the dungeon cell. Carrow was talking to Draco. "An hour," was all she heard. And with another horrible smirk — one that she could barely see through the haze of her tears — Amycus swirled his cloak around and strode out of the dungeon cell, shutting and locking the door behind him.

It was just Daphne and Draco. He stood at the door, watching through thick, iron bars Amycus walk away.

"B-bet . . . you . . . love this, M-Malfoy." Her teeth chattered as she spoke.

Draco had one hand in his robes. Slowly, he walked towards her, pulled his hand out of his pocket, and held a vial topped with a cork. He stopped in front of her, and sneered.

"Know what this is, Greengrass?"

"N-no . . ."

"Murtlap Essence. I've taken to carrying a bottle with me now, everywhere I go. Stole it from Pomfrey's supplies. It comes in handy, in case I find myself in a situation like this."

There was a pause.

"Again."

She hissed. She wasn't about to beg Draco Malfoy for anything. No matter how much she hurt.

He twisted his hands so the backs of them were in front of her. Even in the dim light of the room, Daphne could see skin that looked raw, reddened as if scarred from being burned sometime in the past and never had a chance to heal.

He continued to speak, his voice casual. "It may surprise you, but," he said, squaring his jaw, cocking his eyebrow in a ploy to convey smugness, "I make mistakes. Sometimes."

Daphne shook. She didn't move an inch, but the constant burning, the waves and waves of pain — and not just from her hands, but from the Devil's Snare — was choking her. Her brain wanted to shut down. This was too much.

Draco bent down, putting his face level with hers. "I can't lift the curse from your hands, but I _can _alleviate the pain. All it takes is smoothing this on your hands." He rolled the bottle between his own scarred fingers, grinning like a cat who had the canary cornered. "What's it worth to you, Greengrass?"

(_That bastard!_)

"F-fuck . . . you, Malfoy."

He growled and spun away from her. Daphne squeezed her eyes and clamped her mouth shut, little moans escaping from her. Malfoy's attempt to bargain with her only made things worse.

"You're a piece of work, Greengrass. Y'know that?" He shook the bottle in front of him, frustrated. "Any normal bloody Slytherin'd be asking for my price! You? You just want to sit there and make yourself sick! And for what?"

"_Ahhh . . . _!" Daphne tried flexing her hands, but the pain sliced through her body like hot metal. "N-not . . . g-g-going to . . . owe you."

"_Owe me_? Prideful, arrogant cow!"

"Y-you're . . . _onetotalk._" she spat back. "_ARRGH_!"

It was now spiking through her body, wrapping around her insides and constricting her as badly as the snare. When she looked back down at her enflamed skin, she could see trails of red starting to show.

This was unbearable. For a fleeting second, she thought it would be worth it, to ask Malfoy to use the Murtlap Essence, regardless of whatever it cost her. She stared at him, her body quivering as she held it in, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

Draco looked back at her, a smile threatening to peek out on his face. He was waiting for her to say it; he _wanted _her to say it. So, she opened her mouth.

"_F-fuck you_, Malfoy!"

His face fell. "Dammit!" Draco stormed towards her and uncorked the bottle with an exaggerated motion. He dumped a palmful of the balm into his hand.

"Wh-what're . . . you d-doing?"

"Shut up! Shut up and, _again_, shut up!" He put the bottle on the floor in front of the chair. Rubbing his hands together, a sour look on his face, Draco touched her.

Almost immediately, the Murtlap Essence seeped into her skin, beginning its work to soothe her extremities, making them feel cool. Daphne's breath slowed, and what was left was the heat from Carrow's spell dulled into a harsh sting. It reminded Daphne of those moments when her extremities were on the verge of going to sleep. She realized that she was no longer in excruciating pain --and as she realized that things had suddenly become far more complicated. It didn't matter that the pain was now dulled; she was now indebted to Draco.

"Stop helping me, Malfoy."

His head snapped up to glare at her. "No. It's working, isn't it?"

Daphne sneered at him. "I don't want your help."

"Well," Draco said, his arrogant smirk returning. "You're getting it anyways."

She narrowed her eyes, staring at him icily. "You _never _do anything without a price. I don't want your help. I don't owe you anything!"

Draco leaned forwards, bracing himself with his hand pressed on the back of her chair. "What if I say otherwise? What'll you do then?"

"Tell Carrow you helped me? Don't think I won't!"

"You _won't_, though." Draco stood back up, staring down at her, his nose looking like it was turned up in the air — the typical Malfoy expression. "It's not in your nature to do that."

"I'm a Slytherin, Malfoy. You know perfectly well what I'm capable of." She felt herself finally able to smirk at the git. "I think I might want to see you squirm in this chair, dangle Murtlap in front of you and make you beg for it. And you _would_ beg, because you would do anything to make your life easy. Doesn't matter what it is."

"You think you know everything about me and _my life_, Greengrass? All because of my name?" Draco rolled his eyes. "Is that another thing you've learned from your blood traitor _best friends_?"

"Don't you dare mention them!"

He, again, pushed his face at her. "Who do you think persuaded the Carrows and Snape that you've been spending time with Zabini, hm?"

She stared at him, confused. "Blaise and I d-did spend time together. We spent the holidays—"

"You think Amycus would've believed that pitiful attempt at a lie? After talking to me, a little embellishment here, a little there." He smirked. "I made your story a lot more convincing to him."

Daphne could feel her heart pounding rather rapidly. Why would Draco go out of his way to help her like that? Just because he has a _thing_ for her?

"Do you want a treat for your efforts, Malfoy?"

"All I wanted to do was watch out for Blaise. He's my friend after all."

Daphne nearly lost her breath. Did he _know_? If he even suspected the truth about Blaise — oh Merlin! She needed to find out. "What do you mean, watch out for Blaise?"

"I know he's lying for you, Greengrass." He paced in front of her, reminding her of the textbook images of a lethifold as it hunted for its meal. "I've got no idea why he is, or what you're holding over his head."

She shot him her most dangerous glare.

"I don't think I want to know either," Draco continued. "I'm just the wizard making sure whatever your ruse is involving him doesn't bite you both in the arse."

"So it does have to do with me." Daphne wondered whether she came across as threatening enough. She doubted it, as she was confined to this chair and her hands had the sickly sweet and sour smell of pickled Murtlap. "Not just Blaise. Are you angling for something that I can give you? I can assure, _Draco_, that I've got nothing you want."

He regarded her for a moment, his face mellowing in the light of the cell.

"You'd be surprised, Greengrass."

Looking down at his watch, a little gold hourglass set on a snakeskin band, Draco arched his eyebrow. As much as he repulsed Daphne, she had to admit: when the ferret wanted to look like an egotistical maniac, he did it better than anyone else she knew.

"We have another half-an-hour until Amycus returns."

"So? What does that mean? Are you going to Scourgify the balm off of my hands so he doesn't suspect you helped sabotage his punishment?"

"That was the idea." He cocked his head to his left. "And now that you owe me for the pain that I took away—"

"I don't _owe_ you, Malfoy!"

"Oh but that's the beauty of your world." He smiled, one that resembled the cruel leer of Snape. His lips kept quivering seemingly excited at all the potential. "You _know_ you owe me for this. It's all _that kind _ever think about."

"What kind? Normal, _sane _people? Ones who actually give a hippogriff's fuck about another person? Ones that do good things for their fellow witch and wizard and _don't bloody expect TO – BE – OWED – A – DEBT_?!"

He continued with his awful smirk. "And someday I'll ask for you to repay your debt to me. I'm sure there'll be more in the future."

It was as if he heard nothing that she had said. Daphne curled her mouth, refusing to speak to Draco any further. Instead, she satisfied herself with shooting him poisonous glares.

They fell into a tense silence. She felt her hands, moving them gingerly so as not to disturb the vines firmly latched around her body. Her hands reddened more as the minutes ticked by; Daphne felt her extremities tingle, the discomforting sensation increasing as time passed and the Murtlap Essence's effect started wearing off.

Draco sat in a corner of the cell, tapping his wand, making sparks go off. When he got bored with that, he did the same with her wand, watching it as smoke flared from its tip.

"Stop mucking with my shit!"

He didn't look at her, but he grinned. "Such a pathetic excuse for a wand, Greengrass."

Daphne fumed; he wanted her to respond, to come back at him either with an insult or an acknowledgement of some sort. Instead, she turned her eyes towards the door, gritting her teeth as the pain started increasing more . . . and more . . . and more.

Draco stood back up. He pocketed her wand into his robes and approached her.

"It's time."

Daphne's eyes flashed upwards to his pointy face. He stood above her, his wand held in his hand; she could see him twisting it in his palm.

"What are you waiting for?" Her voice was shaking again; the pain and the heat were already coming back. "J-just . . . do it, Draco."

He stared at her with just a moment's hint an apology. Draco seemed to realize that he let his guard down because he quickly stiffened and smirked for good measure. He pointed his wand at her hands.

Daphne felt her heart stop. . . .

"_Scourgify_!"

The essence disappeared — and she screamed again.

The pain slammed into her. It wiped out any coherent thought, her ability to say anything that sounded remotely like a word. She had almost forgotten what the burn had felt like when Amycus had cast the spell, but after almost an hour of muted relief, it felt several times worse.

She whimpered, crying as the burn shot through her extremities, right up her arms. Through the wet haze of tears, she could see a blurry figure approach the chair, taller, more round than Draco.

"_Finite Incantatem_!"

Daphne gasped. Instantly, the pain ceased and suddenly, her panting slowed. Her hands -- her sore and tender hands -- stopped hurting. Through a closed mouth, she whimpered as she brought her breathing to a controlled pace.

Only when she felt the vines retract from her body did she finally relax. Daphne fell out of the chair, nearly landing face-first onto the floor, as her hands were far too raw to support her weight.

Surprisingly, Draco caught her by the arm and pulled her back up.

"Go clean yourself, Greengrass," Carrow snivelled. She wanted to send the Death Eater a defiant expression and obscene gesture. Instead, she managed to bow her head.

"Thank you . . . _sir._"

"My pleasure," Carrow drawled. Daphne turned around; she started hobbling towards the entrance.

"One more thing, Greengrass."

She paused, just a metre from the dungeon door. Slowly, she pivoted around and faced Carrow one more time. "Yes sir?"

"Let me see your hands."

Shaking, she held out the mess of red skin and shaking fingers, still stinging from their ordeal.

"Wiggle your wand hand."

Swallowing, she moved her right hand.

Carrow nodded and smiled at her — that same bone-chilling smile. "Thank you." And he waved his wand so fast, it was a blur. "_Osteo Contricio!_"

The bones in Daphne's hands broke. She crumpled to the ground, her cries tearing through the air until she vomited from the pain.

* * *

She woke up in the Hospital Wing for the second time that week; this time, she couldn't move her hands. Looking down, she saw that they were wrapped in bandages and she could feel splints in between her fingers. Daphne blinked, the dryness of her mouth bitter, almost painful. She licked her lips and, gingerly, she started scooting up—

"Hey, Daphne. Whoa there."

The sound of his voice washed over her and, for the first time in several hours, she felt safe again. Daphne looked over to her right. "Mi-Michael?" she asked, her voice raspy as if her mouth was filled with sand.

He smiled at her with his still-healing face. His hand grazed her cheek. "Who else? Think I was going to leave your side once you turned up here?"

Daphne fell back on the pillows of her bed. "I don't remember anything . . . not after the dungeons." She looked at her hands. "Oh. _Oh Merlin!_ He broke them! How could I forget?"

Michael's face fell; Daphne saw sorrow covering his face. "Someone left you at the entrance of the Hospital Wing, but they disappeared before Pomfrey or Eddie got to you."

"Malfoy," Daphne whispered.

"Did _he _do this?" He touched her bandages; she couldn't feel his fingers on hers. "Your h-hands. They looked like they'd b-been . . ."

Her heart fell as he struggled with his words. She shook her head. "Not Malfoy. It was Carrow. He bound me with Devil's Snare and cast this curse on them; he called it the Flameless Burn. It's supposed to make you feel like your skin's burning even though it's not. Just makes it red, puffy. Maybe a little scarred."

He touched her bandaged hands. Even though she couldn't feel his hands on hers, Daphne felt comforted by his gesture.

"After an hour—"

"He cursed you for an hour?" he asked, his voice low and sounding dangerous.

"Y-yeah. He lifted the curse . . . and then he broke my hands. I can't remember what happened after that."

She didn't tell him anything about Draco Malfoy and the Murtlap Essence; somehow, Michael thinking Draco assisted her for whatever nefarious reasons might make the situation more disturbing.

"You were left at the door, and someone yelled for Pomfrey. We were all talking with Eddie in the back of the Hospital Wing, so by the time we made it out to the front entrance, we saw you lying on the floor, all by yourself. Pomfrey cleaned you up and tended to your wounds. And I haven't left your side since."

Daphne stared at him. "How long have I been out?"

"It's five o'clock in the morning."

She fell back in the bed. "It's so early."

He smiled, although it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm glad I slept almost two straight days in here; otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to stay up and sit by your bed when you woke up."

"Michael, you shouldn't be in here with me. What if someone saw us?"

"No one's stopped by for an unwanted visit. After everything you went through because of us, I couldn't leave your side. I didn't want you to wake up and not see me. Besides, Eddie and Pomfrey know I'm here and they'll warn us if anyone's coming that shouldn't see us together."

Despite her overall discomfort, Daphne laughed. "Stubborn prat."

Michael leaned over and kissed her softly on her lips. "I'm so sorry that you got punished for helping us."

"_Trying_ to help you," she corrected, biting her lip to stop herself from losing it. "They still got you. Put you in the hospital for a few days."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about me. Us, actually," he said, twisting his head around, gesturing towards the other beds. "We're doing all right now. Although Anthony's not dealing with what happened all that well."

"You lot aren't mad at him, are you?"

"No. Terry, Padma and I aren't. The others are feeling a bit . . . testy around him, to put it mildly." He chuckled. "Morag's threatened them with even more bodily harm, though, if they so much as glare at Tony."

"He's doing all right?"

"He's managing."

Daphne sighed. "Which is about what any of us can do, isn't it?"

There was a lull in their conversation for a few moments; Michael stared at her hands, absent-mindedly rubbing circles on her bandages with his fingers. "Yesterday, when Tony came in to visit us, he said something about spending more time with us after today."

She looked at him, her brow creased with confusion. "Well, that sounds as a clear as lake sludge, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. I'm just worried about what that bugger's got planned."

* * *

Mid-morning, there was a commotion outside the doors of the hospital. A pair of footsteps ran towards the Hospital Room entrance, and Michael and Daphne peeked around her screen to see what was happening.

"_MADAM POMFREY!!_" Eddie yelled, as he flung open the doors to the Hospital Wing. He was followed quickly by the other seventh-year Ravenclaws, who were all still in the hospital recovering. They wanted to see the source of the racket.

They didn't have to wait for long.

The seventh-year Gryffindors hurried in, Levitating an unconscious body in front of them. Daphne took one look at him, and her heart plunged to her feet. It felt exactly like that second week at school, during that horrible demonstration in Carrow's Dark Arts class.

(_Neviile_.)

(_Not again._)

Neville's body floated onto the nearest empty bed. He looked horrible. There was a large gash on the right side of his face, open and oozing. The skin around his eyes was black, blue and swelling; his clothes were ripped and Daphne could see cuts, big, small, all still bleeding even as Pomfrey and Eddie rushed to stop them.

"What happened?" Michael managed, watching the school's Matron and her intern move around as quick as possible.

"Whaddya think, 'appened," Seamus said, his accent thick, his tone dark, angry. "Tha' fuckin' bastard Carrow—"

"Mister Finnigan," Pomfrey huffed.

Seamus ignored her outburst. "'E did this! Cut up Nev because 'e was tryin' ter protect Anthony!"

"Parvati, what happened?"

She wiped her red and teary face, her voice shaking with anger as she responded to Eddie. "A-Anthony gave the same speech about the student code in Dark Arts. Carrow st-started cursing him, and Neville intervened."

Terry's eyes darted from the unconscious Gryffindor to the hospital's doors. "Where's Tony? Where the hell is he?" He bolted from the group, running to the entrance, Michael hot on his trail, when the door opened again. This time, a group led by Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones burst into the room. Tamsin Applebee and Zacharias Smith followed them. All four students were Levitating a person between them.

Daphne's dread grew, as did her suspicions about the identity of the injured student. The face was obstructed by Ernie, but the closer they floated the figure, the more she could see scars and torn and bloodied clothing—

They guided his body onto another bed. Daphne pressed her fingers to her mouth watching Michael and Terry's faces react to the newest arrival.

"Tony," Michael whispered to the unconscious figure. "What the hell did they do to you?"

There were huge cuts on Anthony's face, his chest, and his arms. His skin — the part that hadn't been sliced up — had a horrible grey cast to it. For a brief moment, Daphne thought that the worst had happened, but as the thought, as horrific as it was, flittered into her brain, Anthony coughed. Blood splattered from his lips.

"Be thankful Susan had her wits about her," Ernie said, turning to his fellow prefect and squeezing her around her shoulders. "She happened to have a vial of Blood Replenishing Solution on her. I don't want to think what could've happened if she hadn't been there for him."

"Nor do we," Terry said without hesitation, his skin paling at his best friend's condition. "Thanks, Susan."

Susan blushed at the accolades. "I just hope it was enough."

Eddie and Pomfrey ran around him, waving their wands in complex and precise formations above the unconscious Ravenclaw. An iridescent red field shimmered some centimetres above his body. Directly above that were green and yellow lines that peaked and moved in a steady manner.

"You did well with the solution, Miss Bones," Pomfrey said after examining him. "His vitals appear to be normal."

Michael, Terry, and the rest of the Ravenclaws flashed smiles of genuine happiness at the Hufflepuff. Susan wiped her face with her hands. She smiled in relief.

"I'm so relieved that he'll be all right."

Ernie took her chin and tipped it up to look at his face. "You were brilliant, Bones."

"Well, with a name like Bones, you were bound to be a Healer," Zacharias Smith said, his arms folded across his chest, looking at both Susan and Ernie with an odd expression. Daphne couldn't suss out what it meant, but it made Ernie tighten his grip around Susan's shoulders. Zacharias tore his eyes away, suddenly becoming deeply interested in the bedside table.

Pomfrey and Eddie took the time to make sure Anthony was comfortable. The Hufflepuffs departed from the Hospital Wing and the Ravenclaws all took positions around Anthony's bed, with Michael and Terry near his head. Padma touched his hand gently; she wiped her eyes as she quietly sniffled.

It was one hour later when he stirred, weakly crooking his fingers on his heavily-bandaged right arm.

Michael and Terry both leaned their heads towards their mate. "Tony, how are you doing?"

He smiled at Michael's question, but winced as the pain affected him.

"S-see? T-told you . . . I'd be s-spendin' . . . more time . . . with y-you."

"There's something called 'visiting hours', mate. You didn't have to let yourself get sliced up to see us," Terry said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Although you look a sight better than normal. Prat," Michael added.

Slowly, shakily, Anthony held up two fingers in an obscene gesture to his friends. And for a moment, the room managed to dissolve into smiles and laughs, barely tinged with nerves and tears.


	46. Chapter 45: The Badger Initiative

**A/N: **The writer's block may be lifting. Thank you so much for your patience and your continued support, I know I've been horrifically slow with updating and everything. After the darkness of the previous chapter, this one should be a little lighter. I'd love to get this story wrapped up before the winter, but I don't know if that'll be possible. Anyways, hope you enjoy this one.

* * *

**Chapter 45: The Badger Initiative**

"Ah! Miss Greengrass and Mister Zabini. Thank you for volunteering for this arduous task." Professor Slughorn looked at his stockroom ruefully. "This will not be an easy feat, I'm afraid. I didn't realize just how disorganized my supplies were."

Blaise grinned and bowed his head. "Our pleasure, Professor. Anything for a little extra credit in your class," he said, with a wink.

Slughorn wiggled his finger at him. "You are quite the clever lad, Mister Zabini. I'll even do one better than extra credit; I'll excuse you from my assignments for two weeks. Would that be all right for you?"

Daphne and Blaise gave each other smug, knowing looks. "That's perfect, Professor," she replied.

It had been far too easy for the Slytherins to con their way into helping Slughorn with labelling and rearranging his supplies. After all, Slughorn was a jovial man who enjoyed socializing. Particularly with wizards and witches who were well connected. And wealthy. And charming. Enter Blaise Zabini, Daphne's key to Slughorn's kingdom. A little sweet talk here, a little verbal grooming there, and Blaise had Slughorn primed and ready to make them his own assistants for the rest of the term. As Daphne only needed access to his supply of Veritaserum to give to the Hufflepuffs, the arrangement here was practically perfect.

"Very well then! Both of you can get started, and I need to make a quick visit to Professor Sprout, for some ingredients." Daphne was about to reply that this was not a problem, but a knock on the doorframe interrupted her.

"Excuse me, Professor."

Slughorn and the two Slytherins turned towards the voice, Daphne staring at the speaker, befuddled.

"Er . . . why, Mister Corner. What brings you here?"

She watched, utterly baffled, as Michael, bearded and scarred from the attack a few days ago, set down his book bag. "Professor Slughorn, if you don't mind, I was wondering if you might need another set of hands here. After all," he said, nodding at Daphne, "hers are still healing."

Slughorn looked down at Daphne's bandages. "Oh! Oh my dear Daphne . . . I didn't even realize that your hands had been hurt. What . . . goodness! What happened to them?"

"It's all right, er, Professor. I-it was just a mishap and it won't happen again," Daphne stammered, pointedly staring at Michael, who was giving her a defiant look. "To be honest, I was simply going to work on cleaning up the area and see what needed labels and Blaise was going to do the writing."

"Well, perhaps having an extra set of hands would be nice. It couldn't hurt to extend the same offer to you, Mister Corner, if you're willing to work and help Miss Greengrass and Mister Zabini."

Michael ginned, but he pulled his lips to the right side of his face, his eyes sparking as they looked over at her. Daphne suppressed a groan; it was his stupid, smug grin — the same one he used whenever he said anything he thought clever, or cute, or flirty.

"I'm more than willing to help. Especially if this lovely witch needs me to assist her. Always up for a good deed. '_Good deed_' Corner — that's what they call me. Here to lend a helping hand."

Now he was overdoing it. Daphne's stare turned into an outright glare as he winked at her. She puckered her lips and quashed her sarcastic comment, that no, she did not need his help, she could do just about anything with or without hands, and thank you very much for thinking she's weak and needed two men to help her!

Slughorn shut the door on the three students and Michael moseyed towards her, his hands stuffed in his pockets, smiling and looking far too pleased with himself for Daphne's taste. "Laying it on thick there, Corner."

"Oh, so I'm 'Corner' now? Come on, Daphne. Can't a bloke offer to help a fair lass without the negativity? Especially when said fair lass is also his girlfriend."

"And can the public displays of affection!" She swatted him, her bandaged hand not actually making contact with his body. "We're not supposed to be seeing each other. Or at least, no one's supposed to know."

Michael's brow finally fell; he stared at her darkly. "And what if I'm tired of hiding behind everyone's back? What if I don't like seeing you working with the Carrows and still getting yourself hurt?"

"We don't have a choice! We don't know how they'd react if they knew we were together."

He approached her, his eyes expressing a million different feelings. Daphne wasn't sure which ones were directed to her.

"You don't know what it did to me seeing you with your injured hands. You, unconscious, sprawled out on the floor in front of the hospital. And I caused that. _Helping _us did that to you." The tone of his voice, the sudden serious turn he had taken, surprised and humbled Daphne.

"You ended up injured, even after I tried to stop it." Her voice was soft and apologetic.

Michael shook his head, as if refusing to consider her sentiment. "You put yourself in that situation for me, for my mates, and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't help you."

"Michael—"

"Hel-_lloo_!" Blaise's sharp voice cut through their conversation. "Hate to break up this sweet little lovers' moment, but," he said, gesturing to the small supply annex. "We've got some massive organization to do and some Veritaserum to steal."

Michael snapped his head, looking squarely at Daphne. "All of this was a ploy to get _more _Veritaserum?"

"Per Ernie and Susan's request." She held up her hands. "We've already given them the last few remaining doses that I had nicked back in September. But, apparently, they need more. As much as we can snag."

She waited, anticipating him to blow up at her. She knew how he felt about her twisting and breaking the rules. While it didn't destroy their relationship completely, there were times when Daphne wondered if something she did would drive a wedge between them permanently. It had been nearly the end of them last year when she told him about blackmailing Blaise.

Thus, he completely confounded her when he shrugged. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He pointed at the stockroom. "Let's do this before Slughorn comes back in here and catches us."

"You're not angry at me?"

Michael rolled his eyes and pressed his lips together. "How can I be mad at you after what happened this week? Now, do you know where it is?"

"He keeps the strong stuff on the topmost shelf." Her voice was barely a whisper; if she spoke any louder, it might make Michael snap out of whatever charm or curse he was under, forcing him to help her. "Left side, back shelf as far away from prying eyes as possible."

He walked to the storage area, and lit the light with his wand. "Well," he said, his hand on the rolling ladder that reached to the very top of the little room. "Come on then."

"Michael?"

"If we get in trouble, we get in trouble together. That's the way I see it."

Blaise raised his hand. "I brought my Invisibility Cloak. No way I'm letting myself get caught here."

Daphne glared dangerously at him, holding up her fist in a sarcastic fashion. "One for all and all for one, Zabini?"

"Only when convenient. Now, Romeo and Juliet, get your arses in there so we can get this done!"

Daphne huffed and walked to Michael as he held the ladder. He gave her a little chivalrous bow.

"M'lady."

"Prat," she said, smirking. But she took a quick look at her hands. "Actually, with me being part-mummy right now, maybe you should do the honours, Michael."

His eyes dropped to her hands. With a morose expression, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips and a single nod. "What am I looking for?"

"It should have 'Veritaserum' written on it; Slughorn's good about keeping the more powerful potions far back and clearly labelled. It's the ingredients and the lighter stuff that he's more careless about. Go to the top shelf. Far left back corner. Look for a blue glass bottle that's cylindrical in shape."

Michael smiled and moved the ladder down to the far end of the storage room, climbing up it effortlessly.

"Anything for you, M'lady."

She looked down at him. "What in the world's gotten into you?"

Michael shrugged as he extended his arm, pushing past several bottles on the shelf. "What can I say? I'm a sweet bloke."

"Less talking, more stealing!"

"Shut _up_, Zabini!" Michael and Daphne exclaimed at the same time. Shaking her head, Daphne's eyes moved down a little bit; with a start, she realized his trousered bum was just above her eye line. "Merlin, but is _this_ a nice view!" she said with a sigh.

"What?"

"Your arse, Mikey. Nice!"

"Hey." He peered at her through narrow eyes, although it was clear he wasn't annoyed in the slightest. "I don't appreciate being objectified, Greengrass."

"We can play 'polish the broomstick' later if you want." Daphne wiggled her eyebrows.

Michael's head snapped around so quickly, Daphne was afraid it'd come off. "Really? Wicked! Objectify me as much as you want."

"Sweet Salazar, you're too easy." Behind her, Blaise made a retching sound.

"And both of you are giving me nausea. Less _talking_! Merlin, what is it with straight couples?" he said huffily.

"Ah-_ha_!" Michael held the sought-after blue bottle triumphantly; the label a silver charm attached to the glass with a single word etched into it — Veritaserum. "He had two bottles up there. Do you need the other one?"

"No. Best not to get greedy. I'll give them one bottle and see if they'll need more."

He winked at her, again. "So Daphne, who's your Merlin, huh?"

Daphne grinned. "Neville Longbottom."

"Yeah, that's right — _hey_!"

She giggled. "Too easy." Michael hopped off the ladder and pulled her to him, kissing her as he slid the bottle of Veritaserum into her robes.

Having nicked the bottle, which Daphne estimated would be enough for about twenty to thirty doses, the three seventh years went to work, with Blaise and Michael using their wands to write out names and labels of various ingredients and potion solutions. They were so caught up in their task that they never noticed Slughorn returning almost two hours later.

"Well! I must say that you three did a marvellous job with this task." He bobbed his head, his ruddy face bearing a broad, toothy smile. "Well done. And you'll be free of essays for two weeks, as a genuine thank you for your efforts! Granted, you'll have to do the work in class, and keep up on the reading still."

The students couldn't have been happier. "Thank you, Professor." After Blaise promised he and Daphne would stop by the Potions Master's office the following week for a cup of tea ("Oh! But Mister Corner, you're more than welcome, too!" Slughorn added) they left his classroom.

"I'll get this to one of our 'Puffs tonight." Daphne patted her robes. "During our patrols. Merlin knows what they want it for."

Blaise pulled out his cloak as he was going to sneak a visit to Eddie before curfew. "Can't be anything too nefarious. They are Badgers, after all."

Michael raised his eyebrow. "Have you seen Cadwallader play Quidditch? Bloke'll shatter your ribs if it meant getting ten points, much less the Snitch."

"Whatever. You know, the pair of you could practice a bit more discretion, if you want my opinion," he said just before pulling the cloak over his head.

"We didn't ask for you opinion, Zabini," Daphne replied with a scowl.

The Slytherin wizard shook his head and regarded her seriously. "You know they're watching everyone now. More than ever. And the way you two've been carrying on, you're going to line yourselves right up for even more torture. You're making yourselves targets."

Daphne's eyes lowered to the floor. Blaise was right, of course; there was so much scrutiny on every student, and it already felt far worse than the previous term. From the way that the prefects were being punished for the littlest mistakes or acts of rebellion, to the way they were searched upon their return to the school, to the new rules and disciplinary procedures . . . it was stifling, the feeling of danger and oppression engulfing them.

The only solace she got were the moments she had with the D.A., with Ginny and Blaise and even Eddie Carmichael.

But the times she spent with Michael were always, _always, _the brightest spots of her day.

"Blaise, does all the danger stop you from living? From seeing or loving whomever you want?"

He flexed his jaw; the question had gotten to him. Slowly, he shook his head. "Touché, Daphne."

"Just be careful, Zabini. Back to the common room by curfew."

"When am I _not _careful." With one last smirk, he disappeared completely under the cloak. Michael and Daphne looked in the direction his soft footsteps walked away. She made sure the Veritaserum was still tucked in her robes, her book bag shouldered between her and the Ravenclaw.

"We do have some time before curfew, Corner."

He smiled. "Want to spend it with me?"

"No, I was thinking about having a tea party with Hagrid. Of course I want to spend it with you."

His eyes travelled down the length of the corridor. "There's a classroom down there, with the biggest, widest desks that you've ever seen." He leaned down and whispered in her ear; Daphne shut her eyes, listening to everything Michael was thinking about doing to her on top of those desks. His ideas were, for lack of a better word, wicked.

He kissed her temple, looking at her with his scruffy and scarred face, the bandages above his eye and across his cheek gave him an even tougher appearance. "Sound good? That way, you won't have to use your hands."

"Wh-what about your injuries?" Daphne was trying to regain her composure after hearing Michael's enticing suggestions.

He smirked. "I'm not injured down _there_. Wand's perfectly intact."

"You want to . . . even with our clothes on?"

"Well, the way I keep playing it in my head, you still have your tie on. And your stockings. And your skirt's bunched up all around you. And the book said—"

Daphne chortled. "There's a book?"

He raised his eyebrows. "There's _always_ a book. And this one had pictures that move."

She gasped.

"They even gave suggestions about how to work on time. Speed. _Stamina_. Stuff like that."

"Stamina?" Her voice was a mere squeak.

Michael nodded. "Something about taking your time with the niffler. Make sure the niffler has fun during the hunt, and then really go for the gold."

Daphne said nothing. Instead, she practically ripped his arm out of his socket in her rush to get to the classroom. Just before she followed him into the classroom, she heard a noise, as if someone had run into a suit of armour. She held her breath. Had someone been watching them — her and Michael and Blaise — this entire time?

Did someone know about her and Michael?

Snapping her head down the hallway, she exhaled when she saw no evidence of another person spying on them. Daphne turned back towards the classroom, locking the door and casting privacy charms so Michael could show her the things he learned over Christmas holiday.

* * *

Unfortunately, they had to delay the first meeting of the D.A. for the term, thanks to the attacks on Neville and Anthony. But that did not deter the D.A. from their efforts to decorate Hogwarts with as much pro-Harry Potter graffiti as they could.

"Ginny, make sure someone gets the Dark Arts floor." Neville whispered her commands from his bed in the Hospital Wing. Ginny did not know how Madam Pomfrey managed to keep both Neville and Anthony in here with her for more than a couple of days, but she was not complaining. It gave them time to recover and other members of the D.A. could take the heat for the upcoming vandalism.

"Already on it."

Neville fell back onto his pillows and held his thumb up. "Knew I could count on you to keep things going."

At eleven o'clock that evening, Ginny, Seamus and Lavender set out for the ground floor where all the staircases converged to write. They were heading out to the main courtyard, where they were going to post a large sign — "_**WE'RE WITH YOU HARRY POTTER!! LONG LIVE HARRY!!**_"_** — **_with a strong Sticking Solution that the twins had developed and had given to Ginny.

The Hufflepuffs were going to take the first floor, right in front of the two classrooms in which the Carrows taught, with their most overt sign yet: "_**DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY! WE'RE HERE! NO FEAR! GET USED TO IT!**_" True, it pretty much annihilated any of their efforts to keep the D.A. under the radar. But, as Neville told Ginny, and Ginny told Seamus and Lavender, "We either go bold or go home. There's no in between. And it's time to start being bold."

"Or bloody stupid," Anthony Goldstein had added, rubbing his still-mending face with his bandaged hands.

Dressed in black, their faces painted to allow them to hide in the shadows and under tapestries if necessary, Ginny took the lead, staying close to the railings, and sneaking down onto the fourth floor. Seamus signalled for them to stop. He pulled out his Galleon.

"It's from Daphne. '_Fourth floor with Alecto. Moving up. Amycus in West Tower. Friendlies on North, ground, and first._'" He pocketed the coin and nodded down. "Looks like she's keeping the Carrow bint preoccupied."

Ginny grabbed the railing for the staircase as it shifted to meet the fifth floor balcony. "Sounds like she was able to shift the schedules with the prefects this evening and have the prefects that won't turn us in out here tonight."

Lavender laughed nervously. "She knows that for sure?" Staring ahead of her, she wrung her hands. "It's already a given that we're going to get caught. Maybe it's better to get caught sooner rather than later."

Ginny watched as Seamus put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Lav, as long as I can, there's no way I'm allowing you to get caught." Seamus' resolve nearly took both girls' breaths away. Feeling a small pang to her heart as she thought of Harry and not knowing how he was doing, Ginny smiled sadly as Lavender leaned forward to kiss him.

"Let's get moving," Ginny said with an apologetic smile. Her friends complied.

They reached the stairwell that lead onto the fourth floor. She threw Blaise's Invisibility Cloak over her head and looked down the corridor. She kept her eyes and ears open, watching and listening for any signs of movement that wasn't the Gryffindors.

She ran back up to meet Seamus and Lavender. "Coast clear. Let's get downstairs and get outside."

Finally touching down onto the ground level of the Grand Staircase, the three Gryffindors stood beneath a swirling stairwell, hidden in shadow. There were three prefects monitoring the large hall, and one standing next to the entrance.

"Crap," Ginny whispered, barely audible to the two other Gryffindors. "How to get past—"

As if on cue, the door opened, and out came Ernie and Susan. Ginny could hear them talking audibly to the other prefects.

"There are more signs. We counted four so far."

"Where?"

Ernie sounded out of breath. Ginny could see a flush spread across his cheeks as he stood in the candlelight, his blond hair shiny, possibly from sweat. "The North Tower and the Great Hall. Professor Carrow—"

"Uh, Ernie? Which Carrow do you mean?"

"_Amycus_," the Hufflepuff replied impatiently, "is heading towards Muggle Studies and Dark Arts from the viaducts to check if someone hit those classrooms. Go check out the towers. Susan and I will check out the ground floor and other areas."

The prefects nodded and made to leave. One witch that Ginny recognized as a fifth year Hufflepuff, Gilly Norton, turned around. "And if we find whoever put them up?"

Susan gestured to herself and Ernie. "Come find us before you do anything. We'll deal with them later. Just let us know if anything happens to you."

The prefects vacated the ground floor, with Ernie and Susan following them. Ginny looked; the two oldest Hufflepuff prefects had managed to leave the doors to the Entrance Hall open, just enough to let all three of them out.

"Well, I guess that's how we're going to get outside." She turned back to Seamus and Lavender and motioned for them to follow her.

Tiptoeing out of the shadows, they walked slowly to the open doors. Seamus signalled for them to stay back. He peeked his head out of the opening. Raising his hand, he sharply jerked two fingers toward the entrance hall.

Ginny and Lavender looked at each other and shrugged. "What the hell was that, Shay?"

Seamus huffed at Ginny. "Tha' was the signal to go! As in, the bloody coast is clear!"

Lavender rolled her eyes. She pressed her body against the door, and squeezed through. Ginny followed suit, and Seamus came out last. They cast their eyes around the hall. It was clear of prefects or professors. They crept out as silently as possible, Ginny praying that the entrance to the main courtyard was unlocked, as it was left up to Ernie and Susan to keep that door open.

And when they got to it, the three Gryffindors collectively let out a relieved breath; the door was open. Seamus gently tapped it with his hip. No alarm sounded.

"Ladies first!" he whispered, which didn't cover up his glee. Ginny and Lavender suppressed their giggles as they snuck outside.

* * *

"Murtlap Essence! Take it and use it for any burning spells he might try on you!"

Ginny could barely make out what Daphne was trying to say to her, much less thrust into her hand. Of course, that could have had as much to do with her nerves about what was going to happen with them than Daphne's harsh whispers. It was the morning after their insurrection in the courtyard; punishment was inevitable. As soon as Snape started speaking, they were going to get it. Punished. Whatever it looked like, they were going to take it like the Gryffindors that they were. They were not going to let any other students suffer for their transgressions.

The two girls had snuck into an empty hallway, obscured from the throng of students crowding into the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Daphne," Ginny hissed, "we need to get out of here! If we're gone too long, they're going to send out a search party and then _all _of us are going to be in trouble."

The Slytherin rubbed her eyes. "And here," she said with a sigh, showing Ginny two more small bottles. "These are all the wound cleaning and Blood-Replenishing potions that Eddie gave us."

Ginny pressed her mouth together tightly. "Thanks." Her friend nodded.

"I can't stop what they're going to do, but these should help most of whatever they will do to you."

Ginny took the bottles and nodded, smiling ruefully. "We need to get this over with."

"I hate that we even have to worry about this."

"I know, Daphne." Ginny turned toward the Great Hall, pausing for a moment. "Thanks, again." She left. Daphne hung back, watching her leave, knowing she felt the weight of what was about to happen fully on her shoulders.

* * *

The Gryffindor contingent of Dumbledore's Army limped into the Room of Requirement for their first official meeting of the term. Ginny grimaced with each step, as her back remained tender from the whipping earlier in the week.

She walked next to a still-bandaged Neville, who kept putting his hand on her back. This, of course made Ginny wince rather loudly; the scars, even with various pain-relieving balms and skin-regrowing solutions, were still quite painful. As she had dressed for the day, she noticed that her white button-up shirts were now showing some gruesome stains — long streaks of red criss-crossing from left to right that had not been there before this year. She felt the corners of her eyes sting with fresh tears as Ursula and Cosima helped dress her that evening. No one deserved this shit.

Parvati held Lavender, as her scars, for some reason, had been a bit harder to heal. Watching Lavender move was like watching someone stepping on hot coals. Same with Seamus, who walked next to Neville, and every so often had to lean against his mate for support. Alecto had used them to teach Crabbe how to cast the Flameless Burn spell, casting it with horrific effect on the feet of the two Gryffindor seventh years.

"Godric, but you look a wreck, Ginny!"

The sixth year grinned shakily at Daphne. " 'S . . . good to s-see you, too."

"Did the balms and stuff I give you help?"

"Yeah," Neville said, Ginny flashing something in between a grimace and a smile. "Seamus and Lavender used the Murtlap on their feet."

Daphne shuddered and raised her hands. "I know how that feels."

"I used the Blood-Replenishing Potion." Ginny said, her eyes shut. A pile of plush pillows appeared at their feet. Exhaling, Ginny lowered herself to the ground, much like a pregnant woman trying to find a comfortable spot on which to lie. "And did I ever need it. Pomfrey came to check on us in the dormitory and said that if I hadn't had something on me, things could've been a lot worse."

Seamus and Lavender collapsed next to her, the pile of pillows growing to accommodate the injured Gryffindors.

"Glad something went all right. I was a bit worried there, thinking that the Carrows were going to start cursing those first years right there in the Great Hall before you lot turned yourselves in." Daphne shook her head, and her eyes fell to the floor.

Fortunately, their remembrances of that difficult morning were interrupted as the door to the Room opened. Daphne waved over to Michael, who entered the Room with Terry, Anthony and Padma. Blaise strolled in after them, looking thoroughly bored with the whole affair, as he was checking his nails with a slight sneer on his face.

Anthony and Terry jogged up to them, as Michael swooped around to come up behind Daphne. Michael greeted his blissful girlfriend with a rather soppy hug and kiss on the cheek — all to a lovely chorus of his mates and the Gryffindors laughing, teasing them with gagging sounds.

"Keep it in your trousers, mate,' Terry said, laughing. Michael glared at him.

"Here," Anthony replied as he pulled out a shiny gold Galleon and plopped it into Terry's open hand. "You win."

Michael released the smirking Daphne and glared at his friends. "He wins _what_?" she asked Anthony.

"Terry bet me a Galleon that you can't be in the same room for five seconds with Daphne without being able to touch her. He clearly won."

Daphne snorted and patted Michael on the back. "Oh, stop flaring your nostrils, Corner. It's sweet that you can't keep your hands off of me." Below them, Ginny laughed and stuck her tongue out, making a small retching noise.

"Actually, Gin, this is for you." Terry flicked the Galleon with his thumb. The coin arched down to her. She cupped her hands and it neatly fell into her grasp.

"It's your shiny new D.A. Galleon," Anthony said, gesturing to the little gold object.

"Oh? Cheers, Anthony!"

He grinned awkwardly. "I had been meaning to give it to you sooner, but," he gestured at his scarred face. "Got a bit sidetracked."

"Don't worry about it. Thanks, though."

There was a cough coming from behind them. "I hate to break up the party over here, but we should get started before the Carrows send out the other snakes to look for us. I'm far too handsome to subject myself to target practice," Blaise drawled.

Neville rubbed his hands together. "It looks like all we're waiting on now are the Hufflepuffs. Have any of you seen them?"

He looked around the room, but was met with confused, slightly worried stares. The longer they waited, they were putting themselves at risk. Maybe the Hufflepuffs got delayed in their trip up to the room? Maybe they were already getting tortured by the Carrows — no. If the Carrows were torturing them, they would broadcast it like they did with most of their whippings.

Neville looked at the entrance to the room. "We'll give them a little more—"

The door burst open. Ernie and an oddly-grinning Susan led the way, followed by Hannah Abbott . . . and then, in short order, Tamsin Applebee, Wayne Hopkins, Eric Cadwallader, and Megan Jones.

No one said a word. They were far too stunned to do anything other than gape. Ginny stood up, with Seamus and Lavender doing the same, their faces all showing various degrees of astonishment.

With caution, the new Puffs stopped walking, keeping some distance from the rest of the D.A. Hannah, Ernie and Susan approached Neville. The de facto leader of the D.A. had an inscrutable expression frozen on his face. He too, was still recovering, gauze and ointments covering some of his bruises. His hair had grown out, and with the patches of scruff developing on his face beneath his bandages, Neville cut a rather imposing figure.

The closer the three Hufflepuffs got to him, the stiffer he became. When they finally reached Neville, he remained solid as a board, with his arms crossed. Ginny and Daphne both eyed each other; they had never seen Neville in such a state before. The only thing he allowed himself to do was blink. And flare his nostrils.

Calm fury. This was not a good sign.

"Neville," Hannah began, "before you say anything—"

"Clearly, even as the leader around these parts, the _leader_ that you lot chose, I have people going behind my back and making decisions without talking to me first."

"Annie, it's all right." Susan spoke calmly and laid a hand on Hannah's shoulder. The prefect approached a still furious Neville and never took her eyes off of him.

"This was my choice, Neville. As Secret Keeper for all of us, I wanted to help recruit anyone that might prove to be loyal to us. We could use even more bodies, Captain. You know that better than anyone."

"But you're risking to expose us further, Susan — wait. Did you just call me 'Captain'?"

Terry stood up, "Er, that was our idea, I'm afraid. The Ravenclaws. We've sort of been calling you 'O Captain, My Captain' behind your back." He smiled, a wee bit nervously. "It's supposed to be a compliment, Nev. Some of us who've been reading Muggle literature over the holidays came up with that." He thumbed towards Anthony's direction; the prefect narrowed his healing face at Terry, wincing as his glare agitated his wound.

"We know you're our leader, Neville. Maybe it's time you had a proper name to go along with what you've done for us."

"'_Neville_' is fine, Terry. You don't have to go into that 'captain' business." He had to hold back a grin, though, as he spoke. "But as for all this, Susan, why bring more people in here. For what purpose? Do they know what we're intending to do? What risks we're taking?"

"They do because they I asked them how far they're willing to go this year." Susan drew herself up. She was still a fair bit shorter than Neville, but she regarded him with an intense defiance. "And, thanks to Daphne's efforts, we were able to question them, with their permission, with a few drops of this."

Susan held a round blue bottle in front of Neville. His eyes grew to the size of Bludgers. "Veritaserum? We're back to that again?"

She nodded. "I made sure they knew they would be dosed with a small amount, and they answered all of my questions. When we were done, I was satisfied with their answers and revealed the Secret to them."

At this point, Eric Cadwallader raised his hand. "Are you two going to talk to us directly, or are you going to carry on this lovely little chat without our input. Which, y'know, could be important when you're sussing out our intentions."

Tamsin Applebee joined in as well. "I know we haven't been properly introduced, Long-, er, Neville, but my mum's gone. Hopefully on the run. So I've got a right to help tear down these bastards, the same as all of you."

He nodded slowly, conceding her point. "Can't really argue with that. Wait," he said, his voice indicating something had just dawned on him. "Your sister's a second year Gryffindor, isn't she?"

"That's right. Theresa Applebee. Probably a right pain in your sides."

Neville smiled. "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that. She's a bit . . ." He searched for the right word. "Energetic."

"She's a beast when she's had sugar. And she bloody _loves _sweets." Tamsin snorted. "You should stuff her full of Honeydukes and let her have a go at the Carrows. That'll run 'em off for good!"

This finally broke the tension building in the room. A hearty round of laughs slowly increased, culminating in a very sharp voice cutting through the amusement.

"Oi! Can we get a move on? Seriously — we're going to have the Carrows, Snape, and pretty much the whole of Slytherin House reining down on us if we don't make it out of here by curfew!"

The Hufflepuffs stopped laughing and stared at the interloper.

"Blaise Zabini? _Blaise – Effin' – Zabini's _ in this and, somehow, no one thought about telling us?" Eric said, his voice full of angry incredulity.

Tamsin threw her arms up and spun around to Susan. "Look, Greengrass was one thing—"

"Hey!" Daphne exclaimed. Tamsin held her hand up.

"I said you were all right. But that _other_ snake? Zabini?" She stared at him, her eyes narrow and piercing and dangerous. "He said I was tainted. That I was every bit as dirty as a Mudblood." She sneered at him. "He doesn't belong here."

It was Daphne's turn to get up into Tamsin's face. She did so before Blaise could storm up to her himself and start Wizarding War Four — or whatever number it was they were now on.

"Applebee, you'd do your best to shut your mouth. You don't know Blaise like we do. You know that if he's in here, he's under the Fidelius Charm too, and he can't say anything even if he wanted to. So back off!"

Tamsin crossed her arms and advanced towards Daphne. Ginny watched as Michael shifted to move closer to his girlfriend. Indeed, the rest of the room tensed and watched the two girls stare each other down. Megan, Eric and Wayne started to approach them on the other side—

"Tamsin, Blaise is gay."

All heads snapped towards Ernie. Tamsin blinked, her body language and stance relaxing almost instantly. However, Blaise glared at him, completely livid.

"What the fuck, Macmillan?"

Ernie held his hands up. "You wanted to watch them fight?'

"I was considering it, yes." The Hufflepuff grunted indignantly at Blaise.

"Come on. We're all in this together. You're open in here, with us. And they're joining us. They're a part of this thing now, so might as well get everything out in the open."

Blaise stomped up to Ernie and jabbed his finger into Ernie's face. A couple of students made to reach for him in case blows were thrown, but it was not necessary. Blaise stopped short of touching Ernie.

"Next time, _I_ tell them myself. You don't get that privilege."

Ernie swallowed and nodded. "I apologize for overstepping."

Blaise pulled back his furious digit and nodded at the newcomers. "Now you know. So, can we dispense with all these niceties and start the meeting? Finally?" There was no mistaking the sarcasm in his voice as he drawled. The Hufflepuffs all nodded. Tamsin looked uncharacteristically nervous and fidgety following Blaise's revelation, as if it had affected her more than the others. She remained quiet, however, her eyes locking onto Neville's, nodding at him to take over the meeting.

The leader rubbed his eyes, took one very deep breath and looked over the room. "Are we ready to begin?"

One by one, wands flicked to the ready positions, each student holding it in front of them. And after Ginny raised her wand, she shouted loud and clear — "_Yes, Captain_!"

"_YES CAPTAIN_!" came the reply from the other students. Slowly, Neville grinned.

"Then — let's do this."


End file.
